


Crowned With Flowers

by BecauseBraime



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And it isn't Jaime, Cuckolding with consent?, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Kid Brienne and Teenager Jaime for the half, King Selwyn, Marriage of Convenience, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, No Robert's Rebellion | Robert Baratheon Never Rebels Against the Targaryens, Pre-Canon, Set during pre-canon and TV canon years, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Valonqar Prophecy (A Song of Ice and Fire), not cersei friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 127,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: At the tourney at Harrenhal in 281ac, Barristan defeats Rhaegar in the final tilt and prevents 'the moment all the smiles died'. Unfortunately, that only shifts Rhaegar's focus from Lyanna to someone else. As Rhaegar considers how to fulfill the prophecy he believes associated with his line, a line born of House Targaryen and House Tarth emerges, and a rebellion ends with Selwyn Tarth on the throne. Ever the opportunist, Tywin Lannister plots to see his legacy on the throne, but as always, he isn't the only one plotting."If I had been a better knight... if I had unhorsed the prince in that last tilt, as I unhorsed so many others, it would have been for me to choose the queen of love and beauty..." - Barristan
Relationships: Arthur Dayne & Jaime Lannister, Arthur Dayne/Lyanna Stark, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark (background), Cersei Lannister/Viserys Targaryen, Genna Lannister & Selwyn Tarth, Genna Lannister/Barristan Selmy, Jaime Lannister & Barristan Selmy, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Arryn/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 658
Kudos: 354





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first pre-canon fic, but I'm drawing from TV characterizations and I'll be blending in some TV canon spins along the way. The fic will span pre-canon (281ac) through Season 8 timeline (around 305ac or slightly beyond). It's a longer fic (currently outlined at around 50ish chapters with 1/3 already written). I plan to update daily.
> 
> This is my first attempt at spotlighting other couples and/or characters almost as much as Braime. Operative word being "almost". At its core, this is still a Braime fic, but not surprisingly, there isn't much Braime romance until halfway through (we get to see child Brienne in the first half)
> 
> I also aim to play with some book prophecies/events and change them up a bit. For example, Valonqar prophecy will happen, but Cersei's three kids will NOT be Jaime's, and the 'king' in question will not be Robert.

It was the final tilt of the tourney and Barristan maneuvered his horse into position. Opposing Barristan, the prince and heir to the Iron Throne readied himself from across the lists. With a friendly nod, Rhaegar donned his helm and reached for his lance. 

Glancing briefly at the stands, Barristan took note of Lady Ashara Dayne sitting beside Princess Elia. His heart quickened at the sight of Ashara’s wide smile. The young Dayne leaned in to whisper into Elia’s ear. 

A distraction. Before Barristan could collect himself, he followed Ashara’s gaze towards Ned Stark. Something bitter and jealous stirred within.

_Perhaps if I win the joust and name Ashara as queen of love and beauty, she might look at me as she looks at Stark._

Lowering his visor, Barristan took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He huffed a laugh at his unfounded jealousy. He was a Kingsguard and swore a vow to take no wife and father no children. Giving voice to his infatuation with Ashara would be without purpose and only lead to embarrassment. At four-and-forty, Barristan had long accepted that his life would be one of service; not love.

Steeling himself, Barristan concentrated on the joust and not the young woman for whom his heart held an unrequited love. He took one final breath to ensure the distraction was gone. In the back of his mind, Barristan knew it could have cost him the victory. As Barristan exhaled, the noise from the crowd faded away and all he saw was Rhaegar at the far end of the lists.

The tourney was where Barristan excelled and earned his moniker, _Barristan the Bold_ , as bestowed upon him by Prince Duncan Targaryen. Barristan had only been a boy the first time he entered the joust; a mystery knight at age ten. Since that day, Barristan’s skill had only improved with time. The joust was _his_ competition, and Rhaegar the unfortunate target of his lance.

Urging his horse forward, Barristan took aim at the young prince who Barristan considered a friend. Barristan knew Rhaegar’s weakness in the joust. He had unhorsed Rhaegar nearly two years prior at the tourney at Storm’s End. The memory flooded Barristan’s mind as his horse galloped ahead. He remembered the path to victory.

Rhaegar angled his shoulders too much. The young prince often tried to compensate for his poorer arm strength against stronger opponents by using his upper body. It exposed his throat and left him vulnerable against an incoming lance. Tilting his lance upward and right to take advantage of the opening, Barristan’s eyes narrowed on his target.

As their horses approached, Barristan made one final adjustment. The knight and prince reached out for one another, and in a repeat of the tourney at Storm’s End, Rhaegar fell from his horse with a thud. 

A wide smile tugged at Barristan’s lips from beneath his helm. Slowing his horse, Barristan’s surroundings came back into focus. The crowd cheered loudly and rose from their seats. His usually sad, blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he glanced back at Rhaegar. As always, the prince was good-humored in loss. A hint of amusement touched his tone as he groaned on his backside. 

“Gods dammit, Barristan! Again!?”

Barristan tossed his helm to a young squire that came out to collect it. Running a hand through his blonde hair, Barristan bit back a laugh as he bowed his head towards Rhaegar. In the royal box, Aerys looked neither pleased nor displeased. It was the first time that Aerys left the Red Keep since the Defiance of Duskendale. His presence had caused quite a stir, but his behavior at Harrenhal turned that stir into a frenzy.

For many years, the Kingsguard and court grew accustomed to Aerys. His appearance had worsened as his paranoia increased. Untrusting of attendants, Aerys fingernails and hair became unruly. His silver-white hair reached down to his hips, and his beard ran well past his chest. The unkempt hair clumped and twisted in knots, and the top of his head was greasy; permanently matted to his head. 

Worse than Aerys' appearance was his behavior. He would go from bouts of melancholy to fits of laughter brought on by little more than a change in wind. At several points during the tourney, Aerys clapped when there was silence, and at other times, he sat quiet and unmoving while the crowd cheered for victors. 

Barristan recalled the opening night of the tourney after Aerys appointed the inexperienced Ser Jaime Lannister to the Kingsguard. Afterwards, the king could scarcely bring himself to eat his meal as regret and mistrust clouded his features; his eyes wide and staring at the young boy that _he_ raised to the Kingsguard. While the brothers had despaired over Jaime’s appointment, they noted Aerys’ strange reaction to Jaime’s presence. 

Their new brother was sent away to guard the queen and young Viserys back in King’s Landing. Despite his displeasure at Jaime’s appointment, Barristan felt a pang of sympathy for the young knight. Even Ser Gerold offered to go in Jaime's place so that the young knight might compete for a chance at glory. Aerys refused; his decree insulting. Jaime’s dejection at the dismissal was clear for all to see, including Aerys. 

It had been Jaime’s disappointment that caused Aerys’ paranoia to increase when a mystery knight began winning tilts in the opening days of the tourney. The crowd loved the mystery knight and dubbed him _The Knight of the Laughing Tree_ on account of his decorated shield. Barristan quite enjoyed watching the young rider unhorse more prominent knights. The contender’s appearance reminded Barristan of his own entry as a mystery knight over three decades earlier.

Like Barristan, the mystery knight’s armor had been ill-fitted, and the rider’s physique much smaller than the other competitors. Aerys of course thought the young rider to be Jaime in disguise, but Barristan thought that unlikely. Still, Aerys commanded his Kingsguard to defeat the mystery knight and reveal his identity. Under Rhaegar’s orders, the prince and three of Barristan’s sworn brothers sought out the mystery knight at night, and the man was not seen the next day. 

Now as Barristan considered his king, he felt something at his leg. An attendant reached up and smiled. “Well-done Ser Barristan.” The lad held out a crown of intricately woven blue flowers. Taking the flowery crown in hand, Barristan felt his ears redden. In tourneys past, Barristan gave little thought to who he crowned. He would usually honor the lady of the hosting lord, or the queen or princess if present. 

Urging his horse towards the stands, Barristan glanced up through his lashes. Ashara was clapping beside Princess Elia and seemingly unaware of Barristan’s intent. Her long dark hair framed her pale skin and stunning violet eyes. Nearing the women, Barristan reached up and handed the crown to Ashara. The young woman’s eyes went wide in surprise; her head turning quickly towards Princess Elia who only clapped harder and laughed.

“Ser Barristan! I appreciate you humbling my husband… again.” 

That night at the victory feast, Barristan watched in dismay as Ashara danced with the young Ned Stark. Of course, it hadn’t mattered that Barristan won and named her queen of love and beauty. It seemed she was already that to someone else.


	2. Rhaegar I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon is born on Dragonstone, and Rhaegar receives some news that changes everything.

The babe’s cry was strong and echoed off the walls of the corridor that Rhaegar paced. It was the end of 281ac, and Elia was birthing their second child. For nearly an hour after the babe’s cries filled the hallway, muffled voices and movement inside the room were the only sounds that slipped under the door. With a heavy sigh, Rhaegar sat and wondered at what was going on that caused the maester to linger.

Staring out the window, Rhaegar’s eyes lifted to the skies above. It had been a false spring at the onset of the year. For some time now, the weather grew cool and snow fell as far south as King’s Landing. His father had little taste for the winter. Aerys felt the chill ominous and he commanded his pyromancers to beat back the frost with wildfire. Tales swirled in the Crownlands of smoke lifting towards the skies as ice met fire. 

Then something caught Rhaegar’s eye. A red comet streaked slowly across the sky. His breath caught in his throat as he craned his neck better observe the red light carving a path west. 

_ Born amidst salt and smoke. Salt from the Narrow Sea. Smoke from the clash of ice and fire in King’s Landing. A red comet in the sky. It’s true. My line is to bring the Prince Who was Promised. This one will be named Aegon if a boy; Visenya if a girl. We must have three. The dragon must have three heads. _

Soon, the door opened and the maester stepped outside. “My prince, you have a son. The boy is healthy, though Princess Elia has endured a difficult delivery. She is stable now, though I regret that she cannot birth another babe. It would be the death of her.

Rhaegar’s eyes went wide at the words. A mix of relief for Elia’s well-being and despair at the thought of the unfulfilled prophecy swirled in his mind. While theirs was not a love match, Rhaegar wished for no harm to befall his frail wife. She was a good woman, though Elia did little to hold his interest. 

At the tourney earlier that year, Rhaegar had his eye on Lyanna Stark. She was a true northern beauty, and Rhaegar mused that she could be the ice to his fire. When he and the Kingsguard tracked down the mystery knight who Aerybs believed to be mocking him, Rhaegar startled when from under the helm, a woman with daring, grey eyes emerged. Had Rhaegar won the tourney, he would have named Lyanna queen of love and beauty. 

Rushing inside to Elia, Rhaegar watched his ashen wife struggling to remain awake as their son suckled at her breast. Her hair was matted to her forehead and her features sunken. 

“We’ve a son.” 

When Elia took rest, Rhaegar went to his study and prepared a letter for his father.

_ Father, _

_ Elia has birthed me a son; Aegon Targaryen. The boy was born healthy and strong with the coloring of a Targaryen. He was born under a red comet on this fifth day of the twelfth month, 281ac. Though the babe is healthy, Elia is unwell. The maester states she can birth no more babes. There is much we must discuss when I am next in the capital.  _

_ Rhaegar _

As Rhaegar folded the parchment and poured hot wax to seal it, his mind wandered. Rhaegar knew his father to be slipping into madness. For much of Rhaegar’s life, each year of Aerys’ reign brought greater bouts of paranoia and madness. Rhaegar’s closest advisors prayed for intervention in whatever form it may come. Still, Rhaegar was unwilling to become kinslayer.

Rhaegar believed that the madness would consume Aerys' body as it did his mind. The king’s health weakened and his physical appearance gave credence to the fact. If the king did not die in the next years to come, Rhaegar would need to take more drastic action to remove his father from the throne. Aerys’ appearance at Harrenhal did little to assure the people of his capability as a ruler, but Rhaegar knew that he would bring peace, protection, and prosperity to the kingdoms. 

With Elia to spend the next moons recovering from her ordeal on the birthing bed, Rhaegar elected to call another summit. The tourney at Harrenhal had been funded by him. By offering such an exorbitant prize for the tourney champion, Rhaegar knew that the entirety of the kingdoms would attend. In doing so, Rhaegar had hoped to present himself as the capable king he would become. Further, it afforded Rhaegar an opportunity to meet with his most trusted friends and advisors, and to curry favor with many key nobles. 

Of course, that had been Rhaegar’s plan  _ before _ Aerys opted to attend the tourney. The presence of his father made it near impossible for Rhaegar to hold a secretive summit discussing the state of the realm. Now, he would call for another meeting. Most of Rhaegar’s trusted friends and advisors were of the southernmost kingdoms. He opted to meet at a location near the ruins of Summerhall. 

The location felt fitting given it was there that Aegon’s reign ended and Rhaegar himself was born. While a tragic affair that always brought Rhaegar sorrow to think upon, he now wondered if it was prophetic given the signs pointing to his line’s significance in the Seven Kingdoms.

Ravens flew in all directions, and two moons later, Rhaegar left his young family on Dragonstone while he moved southwest. Among those to meet with Rhaegar were Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton, and Ser Richard Lonmouth. 

Under the cover of night, Rhaegar and his small group rode hard towards the meeting location. They would soon come upon Summerhall before continuing southwest for another day’s worth of riding. Glancing at his group, Rhaegar slowed his horse and pushed back the hood of his cloak.

“Lets setup camp near Summerhall this night. I wish to feel the ghosts of my line to give me strength in the days to come.”

Rhaegar loved to make camp in the ruined hall and gaze up at the night sky. When visiting the ruins, he always felt an overwhelming sadness mixed with a sense of belonging. It felt like coming home, but that home was also shrouded in the Stranger’s cloak. 

As often happened, Jon slept closest to Rhaegar. He was a good friend and his loyalty unquestioned. Rhaegar stared up at the night sky before rolling to his side and drifting to sleep. The last thing he saw was the red of Jon’s hair glowing from the dancing campfire. 

_ A chill swept over Summerhall’s ruins and Rhaegar stood slowly from his bedroll. Glancing in each direction, Rhaegar’s breath stretched out before him. The chill was unnatural and sunk deep into Rhaegar’s bones. In the distance, a babe cried, and Rhaegar walked forward slowly.  _

_ “Jon? Myles?” Rhaegar wondered at where everyone went. The area was desolate save for a babe’s wails in the distance.  _

_ Something ran through the ruins in the distance. A girl’s laughter and flowing, dark hair caught Rhaegar’s eye. Rhaenys.  _

_ A small smile tugged at Rhaegar’s lips at the sight of his daughter. She had hidden behind the ruins and giggled as he approached.  _

_ “What are you doing back there, sweetling? It’s cold. Come out and lets find shelter.” _

_ The babe cried again, and Rhaenys jumped up from her hiding spot. “Aegon cry.” At two, Rhaenys’ words were slurred, but they came out clear enough.  _

_ Taking his daughter’s hand, Rhaegar squinted into the distance. The snow was coming down harder, and he pulled her forward. His heart raced at her words. He wondered at what Aegon was doing there, and why it was so cold. _

_ Following the sound of the babe, Rhaegar picked up Rhaenys and moved quickly through the ruins. He stopped over and ducked under various obstacles until the babe sounded just an arm’s length away. Rhaenys felt heavy and Rhaegar lowered the young girl to the ground.  _

_ Stepping forward, Rhaegar turned to grab Rhaenys’ hand, but she was a woman grown. “Father. There he is. Azor Ahair.” _

_ Rhaenys’ finger pointed into the distance towards Aegon. The young babe was now a man grown. He danced with a flaming sword in hand and faced an army of deadmen staring blankly at him. Then Rhaenys’ voice reached Rhaegar’s ears once more, but there was panic there. _

_ “The dragon must have three heads. Only fire can defeat ice. He needs Lightbringer. Father, please. We need lightbringer. We need more fire.” _

Rhaegar awoke suddenly. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. A hand at his shoulder shook him slightly. Turning to his left, Rhaegar saw Jon’s worried eyes. “Prince Rhaegar. Are you alright?” 

“This isn’t the way. We must head back to the city. I need more fire.”

The words made little sense to Jon, but everything was clear to Rhaegar. It was not the joining of fire and ice that were needed to bring the third head of the dragon. It was fire. Rhaegar needed a third babe, and he needed to have the babe born of pure fire. 

_ I must take a wife with Valyrian blood.  _

When dawn came, their group rode hard towards King’s Landing. It took nearly a week to return to the city, but their path was guided by the column of smoke stretching into the air where wildfire met ice on the Blackwater. Rhaegar entered the Keep and moved quickly toward the library. At his unexpected presence, several of his friends of the Kingsguard startled. 

“Prince Rhaegar. What brings you here?” Arthur was at his side quickly. There was concern in his violet eyes that made Rhaegar take pause. While not so deep and haunting as his sister Ashara, Arthur had a slight violet hue to his eyes.

_ Violet. Valyrian blood? Have I never asked him of this before? _

“Arthur, join me in the library. I’ll explain everything there, but first, I must find Grand Maester Pycelle.”

The knight moved quickly at his prince’s side. Arthur was Rhaegar’s closest friend; closer even than Jon Connington. Rhaegar considered Arthur to be the greatest knight in the realm in both skill and honor. When Rhaegar tracked down Grand Maester Pycelle, he pulled the bumbling man towards the library. 

“I need books of House Targaryen marriages dating back to King Maeker; perhaps longer if what I need proves fruitless.”

Dutiful as ever, Pycelle moved towards the shelves and produced the necessary records. With Arthur at his side, Rhaegar spoke to the Kingsguard while sorting through the records. “Tell me of House Dayne? You’ve Targaryen features; you and your sister. Do you have Valyrian blood?”

Arthur huffed a small laugh. “Not that I’m aware.”

“How then do you and your sister have violet eyes? It’s a rather Valyrian trait.” 

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in his chair. “In truth, I’m not certain. Many in my House have the trait, though no one knows why. I suppose it is feasible my line has ties to someone of Valyrian descent. To be honest, I’ve not thought on it much. We’re quite dark of hair though, so perhaps just a peculiar quirk.”

It seemed too peculiar to not be tied to Valyrian blood. While Rhaegar did not mistrust Arthur’s words, he considered that the knight likely did not have full context of his lines.

Rhaegar hummed as he looked through his grandfather's line. His brows furrowed at a late addition to the page and his finger traced down it.  _ House Tarth? _

In the corner of the library, Pycelle was placing things back on the shelf after having provided the prince with what he sought. “Grand Maester. Bring me the book of House Tarth.”

At the request, Pycelle hummed and moved to a different row. “House Tarth. An unusual request, and I’m uncertain if we have such information here. The Citadel would undoubtedly have information on their line, though I doubt we have any such context here. They are only a small vassal in the Stormlands, your Grace.”

Rhaegar huffed in annoyance, and stood quickly. “Come along Arthur, I’ve much to tell you. I assume my father is in small council?”

“Yes, they just began their meeting not an hour ago.” Arthur spoke absently at Rhaegar’s side. As they left the library, Rhaegar studied Arthur as they walked. 

“Did you hear of Elia? She can give me no more children.”

Arthur’s face fell at the comment. “I’m sorry to hear of it. Fortunately, you’ve two young ones to make the kingdoms proud.”

“No. There must be three.” Stopping his progress towards the small council chambers, Rhaegar grabbed Arthur’s arm. He glanced around the hallway and lowered his voice. “I’ve told you before of it; the prophecy. I had a vision. I need you to trust me in this friend, I need one more babe and the child must be born of fire. Valyrian blood. It is the only way to protect the realm.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed. His eyes looked uneasy as he matched Rhaegar’s whispered tones. “You’re wed to Princess Elia. Do you mean to annul your marriage?”

Arthur knew that Rhaegar did not care for the match, but despite it, Rhaegar tried to be decent to Elia. Their relationship was complicated as both spoke their vows for duty alone. Annulling his marriage to Elia would strain relations with Dorne and could have negative implications for Rhaenys and Aegon. Further, Rhaegar had friends within House Martell, most notably Prince Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard. 

“No, I’ll not. There is a precedent for it however… Valyrian wedding ceremonies. I read of it once. Like Aegon and Maegor after him, perhaps it is appropriate in this situation to consider  _ alternative  _ approaches.”

Arthur’s jaw went slack at the words. His eyes scanned the hall once more and he leaned closer. “This goes against the faith.”

“You’re of Dorne. Tell me… is it unusual for a wed man to take a lover? My ancestors had multiple wives like Aegon who came conquering. I do this for the good of the realm. Believe me friend… if I could remain faithful to Elia and have a third, I would. I do not wish to see her die attempting to birth me a third. This goes beyond our marriage. This is for the kingdoms.”

_ And perhaps in my new union, I can find love.  _

There was a degree of uncertainty that lingered in Arthur’s eyes, but his friend said no more. Renewing their steps towards the small council chamber, Rhaegar could sense a question forming on his friend’s lips. 

“Do you ask after my lineage because you think one of my sisters could fulfill the prophecy? Truly, the eyes are the only features we share with Valryians. We look rather Dornish otherwise.”

Rhaegar glanced at his friend. With a small nod, he confirmed as much. “I would look for another first who has a direct line to my House. Trust that I would take great care of your sister should it come to that.”

_ Though perhaps I should take enough wives to ensure success in bringing Lightbringer into this world. _

“My youngest sister is not yet flowered. I pray you find another of Targaryen blood.” Arthur’s tone had an edge to it, but Rhaegar was more surprised at the referenced sister.

“Yes, of course. I would seek Ashara’s hand.” Rhaegar spoke in hushed tones as they neared the small council chambers. Outside the door, Barristan and Jaime stood on guard with council in session.

Rhaegar was uncertain about the new Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister. He was a boy not yet a man by the laws of men. At five-and-ten, Rhaegar trusted Jaime’s potential given Arthur’s knighting of the young man, but the young lion was unproven and a political prisoner of his father’s. 

Like the rest of the Kingsguard, Rhaegar saw the appointment for what it was. Only the young knight seemed oblivious. At Rhaegar’s approach, Barristan and Jaime bowed their heads.

Once more, Arthur stopped walking. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Word arrived from Starfall. Lord Eddard Stark has asked for Ashara’s hand. She has agreed.”

Rhaegar’s insides twisted. A pressing need to speak with his father urged him forward. “I’ll speak with you later, Arthur. It’s good to see you.”

Moving past Jaime and Barristan, Rhaegar entered the room unannounced. Aerys never cared for Rhaegar’s intrusions, but the council members grew accustomed to it in recent years.

“Father. I must speak with you urgently.” Rhaegar called out as he strode towards the table. His voice was devoid of care for the council’s matters.

Aerys’ finger reached out accusingly; his long nails dragging along the wood of the table. “You think yourself king while I draw breath! You cannot command me about.”

Rhaegar knew the game to play where it concerned his father. Appealing to his narcissistic side was the only way to account for such misconduct. 

“It concerns your legacy. A legacy of greatness that the gods mean to jeopardize.” At the implication of trouble or treason, Aerys raged at his council. 

“Out! All of you!” 

Rhaegar observed how his father’s long, unkempt hair billowed like a cape at his back. Like his fingernails and beard, they remained untrimmed as Aerys grew unwilling to accept touch from anyone. With a finger directed at the council door, the loose sleeves of Aery’s clothing dropped to his elbow and exposed the half healed marks where the throne cut into his flesh. In his fits of madness, Aerys often cut himself on the jagged ends of his throne. The servants whispered of madness akin to Maegor the Cruel, but it was the least of Aerys’ concerns.

With narrowed eyes, Aerys appraised his eldest son and heir. “The next time you seek to interrupt proceedings of my council, I’ll bathe you in fire.”

The threat was not the first of its nature and Rhaegar had learned to ignore it. To his own line, Aerys’ threats were empty. He reserved his greatest cruelies for perceived enemies of the crown, though of late, Aerys began to look upon Rhaegar as such a threat. Inwardly, Rhaegar wondered at it.

_ When will his madness turn his threats into action?  _

“Apologies for disturbing your council, but a matter has come up which may impact the legacy you leave behind. I wish to ensure your place within the sonnets for generations to come.”

Aerys snarled at the words. “I care not for sonnets anymore than I care for treason. What is of such great import that you disrupt my council?”

“I’ve had a vision which would fulfill the prophecy of your line. The prophecy that you and Mother would birth the Prince Who was Promised. Your newest grandbabe, Aegon, has all the signs of the prophecy, but without a third head to the dragon, he cannot achieve his destiny. Elia cannot birth a third, and the gods demand it. I ask that you reenact the old Valyrian wedding customs and allow me to take another.” 

Rhaegar studied his father’s features as he spoke, and then pandered to Aerys’ vain side. In his earlier years, it was known that Aerys had been unfaithful to Rhaella. It wasn’t until a stillborn babe born before Viserys that his father committed to his vows. 

“Like you, I wish to be faithful to my vows. I can only do this with your benevolence. I must take another, but threats seek to prevent that. I believe Ahsara Dayne may be the woman who can fulfill your line’s prophecy, but Eddard Stark seeks her hand. There may be others closer to our line as well, but I need time to conduct more research.”

Aerys’ eyes narrowed and he paced manically. A snarl curled his lips as his mind spun with possible treasons. “I’ll block all noble betrothals until you take this paramour. Act quickly. I can see the tendrils reaching out for my crown in the darkness. I beat back the darkness and cold with fire, but the gods grow angry. Perhaps its this betrayal from Elia’s womb.”

Rhaegar’s brows raised at the nonsensical words spilling from his father’s lips. Madness. Were it not playing to his advantage, Rhaegar may have considered kinslaying then and there. With a small nod, Rhaegar bowed and left the room. Questioning eyes greeted Rhaegar when he stepped into the hall. Jaime and Barristan stood rigid and uncertain as they awaited Aerys to emerge. With a nod towards Barristan alone, Rhaegar moved towards the Spider’s office.

If ever a man could track down the truths that Rhaegar needed, it was the Master of Whisperers. “Lord Varys, I’ve a task for you.”

There was little preamble when Rhaegar burst into Varys’ study. The Spider inclined his head respectfully; his arms tucked into his robes as though concealing something more deadly than his secrets. “How can I be of service, my prince?”

“In looking at records of my House dating back to King Maeker, I only see record of one surviving line with connection to my House. House Tarth. It would seem that King Aegon’s sister, Princess Daella, wed into the House, but it appears a late addition in the books with no update since. I need you to find out what remains of the line.”

With a nod, Varys accepted the task wordlessly. It took only a week for Rhaegar to receive his answer. As he returned from the yards after having enjoyed a spar with Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur, Varys waited in the shadows. 

“I’ve names, my prince.” Varys bowed as he spoke and Rhaegar led him by the elbow towards a private study. 

With the door closed, Rhaegar narrowed his eyes and studied the Spider. “Living kin?”

“Yes, the Tarth line is small, but alive. Princess Daella wed Lord Galladon Tarth. They had a son named Endrew Tarth who sired Lord Selwyn Tarth. Lord Selwyn has only his wife and children.”

Rhaegar felt his heart quicken. “Any daughters?”

Once more Varys inclined his head. “One daughter; a girl of two named Brienne.”

_ Too young. I can’t wait that long. Ashara will need to do. _


	3. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With noble marriages blocked, Cersei is surprised by another rejection... and an acceptance.

_“Three questions. That is what I’ll afford.” The old woman had a dangerous glint in her eyes, but Cersei was unafraid. When Maggy’s wart-covered hands reached out for Cersei’s, she took a jagged dagger and pricked Cersei’s finger._

_Cersei stared defiantly at the woman with her chin raised high. “When will I marry the prince?” Melara shifted nervously on her feet at Cersei’s back._

_“Never. You’ll wed the king.”_

_At Maggy’s words, Cersei’s lips curled into a sly smile. Her brow raised challengingly. “I’ll be queen though?”_

_“Aye. Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”_

_Cersei’s brows furrowed at the words, but she pressed on. “Will the king and I have children?”_

_“Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds, she said. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.”_

_The old woman smiled at Cersei, but immediately, Cersei’s mind went to the valonqar. While Melara asked after Jaime, Cersei thought deeply about two things. Where to hide Melara’s body, and how to kill Tyrion._

Two years had passed since Jaime joined the Kingsguard. Three years since Cersei expected to find herself on Rhaegar’s arm. When Cersei had heard of her father’s intent to make a match between Jaime and Lysa Tully, Cersei had convinced her twin to join the Kingsguard to stay with her in the city.

For years, Cersei loved her twin. She loved him most for what he represented to her; herself in male form. Had Cersei been born with a cock, she would have been Jaime. He was strong, handsome, and brave. What he lacked was a mind for politics and a desire to rule. Where Jaime sought love, Cersei sought power.

Cersei had fancied herself in love with Jaime in their youth. With Jaime, she felt whole; the physical part she was missing returned to her. As twins, Cersei believed they were meant to be together. Two halves of the same whole. Through Jaime, Cersei could have it all. 

Then as Cersei grew, she dreamed of the prince. Through Cersei’s want of Rhaegar, Cersei realized that she didn’t _love_ Jaime; she _needed_ Jaime. As Cersei’s infatuation with Rhaegar grew, her emotional distancing from Jaime began. 

When a match between her and Rhaegar was rejected by Aerys, Cersei raged. She thought her father weak for not outwitting Aerys to force the match. She thought Aerys mad for not accepting the best match his son could dream to make. She thought Elia unworthy. She thought Rhaegar pitiable. She thought herself slighted. 

Then word came of Jaime’s intended match with Lysa. Cersei needed her twin. She needed him to stay close. She needed Jaime to reject his inheritance so that together, Cersei could be whole.

When Cersei visited Jaime at Eel Alley, she made a compelling case for his acceptance of a role in the Kingsguard. An incredible thrill coursed through Cersei at the realization of what her body could convince a man to do.

She knew that her twin loved her, and she needed him. As expected, Jaime did as she commanded. Jaime renounced his claim and agreed to accept the role in the Kingsguard when offered.

Then Tywin left the capital and with him, Cersei’s plans crumbled around her. She was separated from her twin and without her desired match with Rhaegar. Cersei raged once more as Tywin hid away at the Rock. He became consumed with finding a way to get his heir back. It was too late. Jaime said his vows, and Cersei was sat at the Rock.

In 282ac, rumors swirled and storms brewed among nobility. Aerys had blocked all marriages between nobles for undisclosed reasons. Whispers spoke to Elia’s barren state and Rhaegar seeking another wife. The reasons were unclear, though Cersei cared little. The cracks forming in the marriage of Elia and Rhaegar were clear to anyone choosing to look. Cersei was choosing to look.

She begged her father to try once more. Again, rejection came. The rejection was so firm, that Aerys would grant Cersei a match and wedding to another. A kindness to Aerys’ former Hand, so the letter claimed, but Cersei knew the missive for what it was. 

Aerys would never allow Tywin to have power within his House. Tywin’s mood soured. He locked himself away and took offers from desperate lords eager to make a match with the only noblewoman allowed to wed during a period of uncertainty. The negotiations dragged on for a moon turn, but Tywin found his way to power. Lord Jon Arryn needed a wife, and Tywin needed a powerful ally. 

Cersei stormed into Tywin’s study and slammed the door. “I won’t do it! I won’t wed that old man! You can’t make me.”

Tywin sat back in his chair. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her impassively. “Are you done?”

It was not a question, it was a command. Swallowing her rage, Cersei tried to steady her breathing. As her chest heaved and pushed against her corset, Cersei glared at her father. 

“Why can’t you match me with Prince Viserys? We are a Great House, and I am the most sought after noblewoman in the kingdoms. Perhaps if you write directly to Prince Rhaegar…”

“I did. He rejected my latest offers, as have the other Lord Paramounts whose firstborn sons are of age. They all hold onto their existing betrothals until the ban is lifted. Besides, Viserys would bring our House little more than a landed knight would. Rhaegar has two heirs; one for the throne and one for Dragonstone. Viserys is young and useless. You will marry Lord Arryn and bring us the Vale. He is of a Great House, and united we will have the strongest military in the kingdoms. Further, he is well-respected in the kingdoms and will be a strong ally. And to your point, he is old which works to our advantage. You will give him an heir and soon enough he will die. You will still have ample childbearing years left to bring us another kingdom after we secure the Vale.”

Rage simmered in Cersei. Her father would have her sully herself with an old man to further his power, only to pray for the man’s quick demise after an heir is born. She would play the role of broodmare to bring her father the kingdoms.

There was no room for argument in her father’s tone. His cold eyes appraised her from his chair. With defiant eyes, Cersei balled her fists and stood tall. “I’m worth more than an old man and mounted knights. You’ll see.”

Cesrei stormed back to her room and slammed the door. Nothing was going as planned. The old witch in the woods had given her prophecy, and she was meant to marry the king. Then it struck her. 

_She said that I would not marry the prince, but the king. Perhaps I’m not meant to be with Rhaegar until he takes the throne. He’ll come for me then. He’ll claim his true bride. Rhaegar only rejects me because of his father, but he blocked my betrothal to Viserys because he truly wants me._

* * *

Eight moons later, Cersei found herself sitting beside Lord Arryn at their wedding feast. Jon was tall with broad shoulders and dull, blue eyes. His hair had turned grey with age, and many of his teeth were missing. He leaned into Cersei’s ear and spoke softly; his putrid breath assaulting her senses. 

“Tell me of the West, my lady. I’ve not visited in some years.”

Cersei swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Many considered Jon to be a kind, wise, and calm man, but Cersei knew their marriage for what it was. His two prior marriages left him childless and he needed an heir for the Vale. At four-and-sixty, Jon had little time left to ensure his legacy before a cousin would be named as heir.

_I only need to endure him for one babe. Surely he’ll do me the honor of dying after the child is born._

Cersei spoke through a false smile as she turned to fo face her lord husband. “The West is golden and grand.” _Like me._

The comment was sufficient to appease Lord Arryn. He smiled warmly and sank back against his chair. Having just turned six-and-ten in the tenth moon of that year, Cersei should have been sitting beside Rhaegar at their wedding feast. Even a man of her father’s age would have been worthier than _this_. 

As the word “golden” had tumbled from her lips, Cersei was reminded of her brother. She wondered if he thought of her on that day. If he would stroke his cock to the image of her beautiful body riding him to release. Cersei had nearly torn her wedding gown to shreds when Genna informed her that Jaime was not granted leave to attend the wedding. 

Of course, Aerys kept Jaime close. Tywin considered Jaime’s Kingsguard appointment a chain about his neck. With Jaime at Aerys’ side, Tywin was a dog brought to heel. He could say nothing to earn the ire of Aerys or he would risk his son’s life. His heir and golden child.

Cersei’s eyes scanned the hall and landed on her Aunt Genna. Seated beside Genna was her pathetic husband, Emmon Frey, and their two sons. Cersei’s cousins were of age to her, but entirely Frey. They inherited their father’s pitiful features, and Cersei prayed to the gods that any child she birthed Jon would not take after him. 

When Joanna died, Genna stepped into the role of mother to the twins and Tyrion. Her responsibilities increased from her two children to five. Cersei had always considered that Joanna’s death was the first blessing to fall upon her aunt. With the raising of five children, Until Tywin’s children were grown, Genna was given reprieve from the demand to birth more babes. It was the only time that Tywin allowed Genna access to moon tea.

Genna hated her marriage as Cersei knew that she would despise her own. At the age of seven, Genna had been betrothed to Emmon; the second oldest son of Walder Frey. Not a heartbeat after she had flowered, Genna said her vows. The woman flirted with every visiting knight and lord at the Rock. Always with a drink in hand, Genna and whispered slurred words of wisdom to live by.

_“Love no one but your children.”_

Rumors around the Rock wondered at the true lineage of Cersei’s cousins, but they were too ugly to deny as Freys, and Genna was too frightening to call into question. Now as Cersei’s eyes narrowed at her aunt, she finally understood the woman.

There would be no love in this. Cersei was a slab of meat to be used in a man’s game; her father’s desperate grasp for power where he was losing hold. When Cersei looked at her aunt, she saw herself in twenty years, and she hated it. 

Of course, House Lannister was far from the only Great House present. House Baratheon and House Stark attended given their relationship with Jon. Robert and Ned had served as wards under the old lord, and they laughed loudly at a table together, or rather, Robert laughed loudly. At his side was Lyanna Stark; his betrothed. All nobles maintained their prior arrangements for matches despite the ban on marriages without the crown’s consent. 

At Robert Baratheon’s side, Ned Stark and his brothers sat quietly indulging Robert’s ribald tales and tasteless japes. Even still, Cersei would have taken a loud, crass man such as Robert over Jon. Robert was tall, broad, and fierce. Tales of his prowess with a warm hammer preceded him, and Cersei inwardly resented the Stark girl’s match. Still, Robert was no Rhaegar. Rhaegar was what Cersei deserved. 

As the hour grew late, Jon abandoned Cersei’s side to sit with Ned and Robert. Cersei’s eyes scanned the hall once more. Then Cersei noticed something.

A young man close in age to Cersei stood in a corner scowling at the Starks. He was a small thing with sharp features, jet black hair and matching stubble at his chin. His narrowed eyes spoke to an unpleasant acquaintance with some or all of the table. 

A flurry of movement from the Stark’s table caused a change in the young man’s features. As Catelyn Tully stood from beside Brandon Stark to return to her table, the young man’s eyes followed her retreat. Something softened on his face, and Cersei knew the expression.

_He is in love with her. How very interesting._

When Cersei’s eyes followed Catelyn back to her seat beside Lord Hoster, Cersei observed the longing stares of a younger girl, presumably Catelyn’s sister, directed at the same young man whose gaze never left Catelyn. 

As the serving maid came around to refill Cersei’s wine cup, Cersei stilled the woman’s hand. “Help me get to know the Vale’s vassals better. Who are the prominent Houses?”

Like Jon, the girl before Cersei had kind eyes and a gentle voice. It seemed a shortcoming of all in the wretched kingdom that Cersei was to call home. She was a lioness and all teeth. Meekness was a folly that would see Jon’s kingdom die with him. 

“M’lady, the men at the back right tables represent the most prominent Houses. Houses Royce, Waynwood, Corbray, Redfort, Belmore, Hunter, and Templeton. They’re fiercely loyal to ya lord husband. He’s a fine man. Of them, House Royce is Lord Arryn’s greatest supporter.”

Cersei hummed at the words and committed the sigils at the lords’ breast to memory. Lifting her eyes to the young man in the corner, Cersei inclined her head. “That one. Is he with them?”

“That’s Lord Petyr Baelish m’lady.”

Cersei’s lips parted and she kept her claws on the young girl’s wrist. “What is his quarrel with the Starks?”

The young maid’s eyes went wide and mischief danced in her blue eyes. This one will make for a potential informant. I need to remember her.

“He was raised at Riverrun beside Lord Hoster’s children. The staff says he was sent away after he tried dueling Lord Brandon for the honor of wedding Lady Catelyn. Not that he had a chance…”

 _Very interesting._ Cersei released the girl’s arm and batted her eyelashes at the girl. “What is your name?”

“Nessa, m’lady.”

With a nod of her head, Cersei dismissed the serving girl to continue her task. Not long after, Cersei watched with rapt interest as Jon moved towards the back of the hall. He whispered into the ear of the Septon who had married them only hours earlier. The Septon’s face fell, but he nodded dutifully at whatever Jon said. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Jon inclined his head towards someone. Ned, Lyanna, and Robert stood from the table and quickly made their way towards the back of the room. The young men looked pleased, but Lyanna appeared anything but. They disappeared down a long hallway in the direction of the small sept in which Jon and Cersei had said their vows.

Even in the darkness, their path was clear. The Eyrie was made of smooth white stone that shimmered in the torchlight. Slipping unseen through hallways would not prove easy in such a light and airy space. The castle itself was incredibly small compared to the Rock, and Cersei already despised everything about it. 

Not long after leaving the hall, Jon and Ned returned. The household guards hardly flinched when their lord and his guest returned to the hall where the wedding party grew loose with drink. When at last the time came for the bedding, Cersei felt her body stiffen. 

The thought of laying with her husband made her stomach roll. Her eyes darted to her kin’s table, and the unspoken command from her father was clear. _Do your duty._

Only Genna looked upon Cersei pityingly, and Cersei despised her for it. Beneath Genna’s indomitable mask was a sympathetic woman longing for love despite her own words to avoid it. Love was a weakness; that much Cersei knew to be true. 

Cersei once thought love was what she had with Jaime, but no, that was a need. She once thought love was what she would find with Rhaegar, but that was desire. Love was not attainable in this world, but power was. Power would afford Cersei freedom. She would be free from the games men played. They were too weak and foolish; led by their cocks and not their minds. Cersei would outplay them all, but first, she had to spread her legs to an old man.

As the men approached her table, Cersei stood and glared challengingly. Before a finger could touch her golden skin, Jon’s voice brought the bedding to a halt. “My lords. My ladies. It is my wife’s first day at Eyrie. I wish to show her more than the ceilings as you carry her off. I’ll show her the grounds before we retire…”

Jon extended his wrinkled hand towards Cersei and raised a brow. Taking Jon’s hand, Cersei followed him from the hall. When they were outside, two of the household guards fell into step at their back. Their sky-blue cloaks billowed at their backs when Cersei glanced over her shoulder to appraise the men. Jon chuckled and shook his head. 

“If someone means to kill me in my own castle on my wedding night, I have no business taking a third wife.” His words were as much for the guards as they were meant in idle conversation. The men slowed their steps and backed away, much to Cersei’s satisfaction. 

Jon glanced at Cersei and spoke softly. “This will be your home. I’ll not have you carted through it with men pawing at you. Do you need a chambermaid to help with the dress?”

Memories of Jaime tearing at the laces of her dress flooded Cersei’s mind. “Surely between you and I, the dress can be dealt with.”

Jon nodded in understanding, but offered no reply. He spoke absently as they walked, noting the various rooms to the right and left. They passed through the towers until they reached the Moon Tower. Within that tower, Jon’s room was at the top level. Despite the underwhelming size and grandeur of the Keep, the room itself was of decent size. As Jon shut the door behind them, Cersei closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She had ridden Jaime until he forgot all desires once his own. His desires became Cersei’s demands. That night, Cersei would do the same with Jon. Of course, she had to play the part of maiden. She prayed the old man unable to note that her maidenhead was no more present than her mind would be. When Jon thrust into her, Cersei would think of Rhaegar or Jaime. She would think of how to gain more power; enough power to never find an undesirable man between her legs again. 

_I’ll give him his heir. Then I’ll get rid of him._


	4. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime deals with news of Cersei's wedding, but that event turns out to be the least of his problems. Rhaegar's actions have a widespread impact on the kingdoms and set the stage for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has non-descript mention of Aerys raping Rhaella (Jaime POV as he guards the door). Purely canon reference (no added imagery or scenes to that horrible situation).

Jaime stumbled through the streets of King’s Landing. The world was a blur and his mind hazy from the drink. A tankard of ale hung sloppily in his hand as Jaime swayed and tripped over cobblestones in a side alley near the tavern he had just left. 

To the north on that very night, Cersei was marrying Jon Arryn. The love of Jaime’s life was forced to bed a man older than their father. Just the thought of it made Jaime’s stomach lurch and his heart beat wildly. He wanted to take a horse and ride to the Vale. Jaime would cut down every man in his path to get to Cersei; to save her from their father’s latest machinations. 

A voice called out at Jaime’s back. Closing his eyes to clear his mind, Jaime took a deep breath. The voice called out again, and Jaime’s eyes fluttered open. A hand at his shoulder spun him around, and Jaime stared into the face of his sworn brother, Ser Arthur.

“What are you doing? You just left with the bloody tankard in hand. The innkeep was ready to run out here and bludgeon you with a kitchen spoon. You’ve not paid your tab.”

The words were clear, but Jaime’s mind was not. He slurred his words in reply; his eyes struggled to bring Arthur’s face into focus. “I loved her.” Cersei. _The only woman I’ll ever love._

“Well _her_ is a _he_ , and he is properly pissed. I paid your tab, but you owe me. Get back to the Keep before you make more of a fool of yourself. The White Bull will have your head if you can’t keep it together.”

Arthur’s words were both a warning and advice. None of the sworn brothers cared for Jaime; that much was clear. Arthur was the only one who didn’t regard Jaime with complete distaste, but even his indifference hurt to think on. Jaime had wanted to be like Arthur, but he seemed little more than a nuisance to his sworn brothers. His name sounded like a cuss on their tongues. 

Nodding in understanding, Jaime’s grip on the tankard loosened and crashed to the ground. With a huff of annoyance, Arthur released Jaime’s shoulder and turned back towards the tavern. Stumbling blindly in the direction of the Red Keep, Jaime’s mind spun. Jaime wasn’t certain how long he was walking for until he heard Arthur’s voice again.

“Gods damnit, Jaime. You’re not even going the proper direction.” A rough hand grabbed Jaime by the jerkin and pulled him left. 

Arthur’s return was unexpected, but Jaime was glad that someone knew which direction he was meant to be headed. _Was I going towards the Vale? Perhaps the Rock? Perhaps I was going to walk straight into the Blackwater and let the sea consume me._

Throughout the walk back, Arthur grumbled about the evening cut short. They had gone into the city with two other brothers; Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell. Jaime had not been invited, but he stumbled upon them. Unlike much of his kin, Jaime was not a drinker. He despised how wine and ale dulled his senses and clouded his mind. That night however, Jaime didn’t want to be in his own mind. Cersei’s wedding physically hurt to think on, and Jaime only wanted to retreat into himself. He wanted to go away inside, but when he did that, Cersei was there.

Jaime had perfected the process of going away inside over the past year in Aerys’ Kingsguard. The king was cruel and madness consumed him. At first, Jaime only endured maddened orders from Aerys that were forgotten moments after they were given. Of late, Aerys began to follow through on his commands. When Jaime joined the Kingsguard it became apparent the king was unwell. He was prone to fits of laughter followed by hours of extreme morose. He enjoyed executing criminals before all of court, and of late, he enjoyed watching them burn. 

The smell never seemed to leave Jaime’s nose, clothing, and armor. Even in his dreams, Jaime could not escape the stench of burning flesh. More troubling was the king’s treatment of his queen. The first time Jaime witnessed Aerys’ excitement as a criminal burned slowly, Jaime gasped at how quickly the king fled to find Rhaella. Through the bedchamber door, Jaime listened in horror as Aerys assaulted and raped his wife. 

When Jaime moved to intercede, Ser Jonothor stopped him. He claimed it wasn’t Jaime’s place to protect Rhaella from the king. It felt wrong and in violation to Jaime’s oaths as a knight, but it was not the first time that serving the King meant breaking _those_ oaths. While his sworn brothers seemed resigned to it, Jaime despised it.

_This isn’t what I wanted. I just want to go home. I want to be with Cersei._

Now as Arthur guided them up Aegon’s Hill, Jaime realized that he was on horseback. _Fucking hells. How did I get on this bloody horse?_

Glancing to the heavens with a desperate prayer for _something…_ Cersei or removal from the Kingsguard or acceptance from his sworn brothers… Jaime sucked in a deep breath. 

“Don’t fall off the horse. I’ll not carry you the rest of the way.” Arthur’s voice startled Jaime. Jaime’s head dropped forward and he clutched the reins tighter. 

Glancing at Arthur, Jaime saw the firm set to his jaw. Jaime felt terribly that he had ruined Arthur’s night. It seemed that no matter what Jaime did, he failed in some way. When they arrived in the courtyard, Jaime nearly fell off the horse as attendants rushed to take the reins. Once again, Arthur’s hand gripped Jaime’s tunic and dragged him towards the White Sword Tower.

“Keep it together, Lannister. If you vomit in the halls, Aerys will have your head on the morrow.”

The threat was enough to ensure Jaime swallowed down anything threatening to spill onto his boots. Jaime’s vision was worsening as the flickering torchlight guided them down the darkened hall. The walk seemed interminable until they soon reached the White Sword Tower. Arthur unceremoniously dragged Jaime up three flights of stairs and towards his sleeping cell. 

The last thing that Jaime remembered was falling face down onto his bed. When Jaime awoke the next day, all he could smell was vomit. In his sleep, Jaime had lost his stomach contents all over himself and the bed. The stench was awful, but strangely welcome compared to the smell of burning flesh.

Jaime forced himself from bed to clean himself and the room. His head was pounding and his stomach unsettled. _Gods. Never again. I hate the drink._

A knock at the door startled Jaime as he scrubbed down the floor and wrapped the soiled linens with his filthy attire balled inside. Embarrassed by the state of himself and the room, Jaime moved towards the door and opened it a crack. The White Bull stood on the other side and his nose crinkled in distaste when the smell hit his nose.

“My office. Now.”

_Seven hells. If Aerys doesn’t kill me, the brothers will._

Jaime readied for the day and used the water basin in his room to scrub away the filth. Still, he would need a proper bath, but for now, he was clean enough. Dragging his feet to Lord Commander Hightower’s study, Jaime knocked on the door and waited for the command to enter. 

When Jaime stepped inside, he noted Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor inside. There was a third chair beside them on the opposite side of the White Bull’s desk. “Lannister. Sit.”

Swaying slightly, Jaime dropped into the chair and sighed. He bit his lip and wondered if he should apologize, but the Lord Commander spoke before Jaime could think on it further. 

“The three of you will be on wedding detail in a fortnight. The rest of our brothers are being granted the night off to participate in the wedding as honored guests.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. Prince Viserys was far too young to wed anyone, and Jaime was aware of no other Targaryen worthy of a wedding at the Red Keep. Glancing at Barristan and Jon, Jaime noted the confusion on their faces as well. With a deep sigh, the Lord Commander spoke sternly.

“We are to guard our king’s secrets. Keep that in mind with what I share next. The rumors of Princess Elia’s troubled labor are true. She is unable to have another babe which Prince Rheagar demands. Because he does not wish to risk her life, Prince Rhaegar has received allowance by the crown to renew an old practice of House Targaryen. He will have a Valyrian wedding ceremony and take a second bride; Lady Ashara Dayne.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. Taking more than one wife went against the faith, and House Targaryen’s actions would cause turmoil throughout the kingdoms. Then again, Jaime wondered if it would be widespread knowledge, or for their ears alone. Glancing to his right, Jaime noted the reactions of his sworn brothers.

Ser Jon appeared as shocked as Jaime, but Barristan’s face held an altogether different emotion. Jaime recognized it because he had felt the same way the night prior; the same way he felt when word first arrived of Cersei’s betrothal to Jon Arryn. Jaime felt a pang of sympathy for Barristan. His mind wandered back to the morning following the sworn brothers’ return from Harrenhal.

_One and a half years ago_

Jaime took a seat amongst his sworn brothers as they broke their fast. The Lord Commander and Ser Oswell were on guard duty that morning, but the rest of the brothers came together to eat. It was the first morning following the knights return from Harrenhal. Jaime had despaired when he was sent back to guard the king’s family. He wanted to compete in the tourney and bond with his new brothers. Instead, he was cast aside and relegated to guarding the queen and her young son, Viserys. The boy was only five, but he seemed as unhinged as Aerys.

Prince Lewyn raised a brow at Barristan and hummed in amusement. “Can you pass the brown bread, or do you plan on hogging that too?”

With a deep sigh, Barristan shoved the basket of bread towards his sworn brother. “Perhaps if you spent more time in the yards and less abed, you might earn a victory from time to time.”

Jaime’s brows rose at the words. He had not heard who won the tourney, but judging by the commentary, it was evident that Barristan had. 

“Did you win the joust?” Jaime’s question stilled the silverware and halted the conversation. It was as though the brothers noted his presence for the first time as their eyes dragged slowly to him.

“Did he win the joust?” Arthur snorted and shook his head. “Who else would have won the joust?”

Jaime reprimanded himself for the idiotic question. Everyone knew of Barristan’s skill with a lance. He was indomitable and won tourneys as easily as Aerys made enemies. 

_Way to make a great impression. They must think I’m a great dolt._

“Rhaegar could have.” Barristan’s words were nonchalant as he scraped his plate with his fork. The words provoked a loud snort from most of the sworn brothers. 

Jaime’s eyes drifted to Barristan. The man was a legend and Jaime was in awe of him. At four-and-forty, Barristan could kill men half his age with one arm tied behind his back. Jaime felt reduced to the state of a ten-year-old boy in the presence of his childhood idols. 

“You faced the prince in the final tilt?” Jaime spoke inquiringly at Barristan. The older knight shrugged as though it mattered little. 

“Yes. It wasn’t particularly remarkable. He matched well.” It was a lie and they all knew it. Barristan could have been blindfolded and beaten the prince. The outcome repeated itself as often as most things in history did. 

Arthur sat back and crossed his arms; his brow raised at Barristan. “What was remarkable is who you crowned queen of love and beauty. Do you fancy my sister, Barristan?”

Jaime’s eyes went wide as he glanced between his two idols. While Arthur seemed amused, Jaime noted how Barristan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His ears reddened as he spoke in refute. 

“Of course not. I did not wish to offend the prince by crowning his wife. Ashara was right next to her; convenient enough.”

_Liar. I know that physical response. I’ve felt the heat on my own ears when my aunt caught me staring at Cersei’s body._

Genna knew of course. She knew everything. It was something they did not speak of, but Jaime felt a strange guilt kick in when Genna raised a knowing brow and shook her head in chastisement. 

The men poked at Barristan a while longer, but Jaime was lost in thought. Everything seemed to remind Jaime of Cersei, and that morning’s meal was no different. Then Jon’s words cut through Jaime’s thoughts. “Did you see the way Stark was eyeing your sister? He was all over her at the feast too.”

At the words, Arthur shook his head and sighed, but Barristan’s jaw tensed. Jealousy. Pure, unbridled jealousy. Another emotion that Jaime knew all too well. 

  
  


Now as Jaime sat beside Barristan, he grimaced at the White Bull’s next words. “Jaime and I will guard the prince during the ceremony and small feast to follow. Barristan and Oswell will stand guard that night.”

For moons following the tourney and until the time came for Elia to travel to Dragonstone for the babe’s birth, Ashara had remained at the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting. Jaime watched as Barristan’s eyes lingered a moment too long every time Ashara passed. He watched how Barristan’s cheeks heated and he swallowed nervously; how his already sad eyes appeared impossibly sadder when Ashara didn’t give him second notice.

Barristan was a confident man in all other matters. It struck Jaime odd to see the man he idolized reduced to a puddle by a young woman. In a way, it made Jaime feel better about his feelings for Cersei. Jaime assumed that the great knights were immune to such fanciful notions as love; that they were able to compartmentalize selfish feelings to serve faithfully as the perfect white knights. It was humanizing. The mystery lifted, and Jaime saw Barristan as a man with human emotions rather than an untouchable, godlike warrior. 

Jaime sighed and closed his eyes at the words. If Jaime had to stand guard outside the prince’s chambers while he bedded Cersei, Jaime considered it may well be the end of him. If Barristan felt for Ashara only half of what Jaime felt for Cersei, it was an emotional death sentence. Risking a glance at the renowned knight, Jaime saw Barristan nod wordlessly and drop his head.

_Seven hells. He’s done for._

None of the brothers were so foolish as to question Rhaegar or Aerys. That this was being allowed by the crown was all they needed to know. In contrast to burning criminals and forcing himself on Rhaella, this allowance by Aerys seemed a minor infraction. 

The next fortnight was a flurry of activity at the Keep. Jaime passed his time alone when not on duty. Even with over eighteen moons of faithful service and pulling more than his weight, the brothers still avoided Jaime at every turn. The nighttime was the worst. Jaime had nightmares of being burned alive in the throne room. He woke up in sweats with visions of Aerys’ eyes dancing like violet flames. 

On rare occasions, Jaime’s screams were loud enough to wake Barristan. Their rooms abutted one another, and the older knight was a light sleeper. He would enter the room and shake Jaime until the nightmare faded away and consciousness took over. Barristan always looked at Jaime strangely, but offered no words before leaving the room when Jaime’s breathing stilled and he muttered apologies for the disturbance. 

_Do they have these nightmares? Do they struggle to smell anything other than burning flesh?_

When the day of the wedding approached, Jaime put on his armor and stood beside the White Bull. Of course, the Valyrian ceremony did not require a septon. An old woman with Valyrian features stood before Prince Rhaegar and Lady Ashara Dayne. The young Dayne appeared nervous and uncertain, but the prince was pleased. Unlike how Rhaegar looked at Elia, the prince looked at Ashara with lust in his eyes. 

Something about the ceremony felt ominous to Jaime. It was a small gathering with only Aerys and Rhaella present aside from the couple and woman leading the ceremony. Afterwards, there was a small feast held in the Queen’s ballroom. The room was unnecessarily large for the number of guests. Aside from those at the ceremony, several of Rhaegar’s closest friends including Arthur and Prince Lewyn attended.

Prince Lewyn’s vexation was evident, but he kept his mouth shut. The atmosphere reflected Prince Lewyn’s mood as most were uncertain at how this arrangement would play out for the crown. Even Arthur seemed displeased by his friend’s decision to take Ashara as a second wife. Rhaeger appeared blissfully unaware as he leaned into Ashara’s ear and whispered throughout the meal. When the time came to consummate their marriage, the prince and his new wife were escorted through the Keep by Jaime and the White Bull.

When they arrived, Barristan and Jon waited dutifully at the door. Lord Commander Hightower offered his congratulations and began to walk towards the White Sword Tower. Following his lead, Jaime mumbled his congratulations before slowly moving away. When he made it around the corner towards the White Sword Tower, Jaime stopped walking. For a moment the White Bull glanced back at him with furrowed brows, but he didn’t linger to ask what Jaime was doing.

Once off duty, Jaime could do with his time as he pleased. Pretending to move towards the yards, Jaime paused until his lord commander was out of sight. He backtracked towards the prince’s bedchambers and moved purposefully towards Barristan.

The decision was partly to curry favor with his idol, and partly to save another man from the torture that Jaime understood all too well. When he returned down the hallway, Jaime’s sworn brothers looked at him strangely. Jaime’s eyes glanced at Barristan through his lashes, and he slowed his steps on approach. Standing near Barristan, Jaime spoke quietly. “I’m not very tired. I can take your shift.”

Jon snorted and shook his head. The muttered words were loud enough to reach Jaime’s ears. “Toady.”

Lowering his voice, Jaime spoke for Barristan’s ears only. “You shouldn’t stand here.”

“It’s my shift.” Barristan’s words were resolute as he met Jaime’s eyes. 

Not wanting to embarrass Barristan, Jaime raised a knowing brow. “I _know_. You shouldn’t…”

Barristan’s eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed. The older knight’s eyes darted to Jon who leaned against the wall and yawned loudly. Glancing back at Barristan, Jaime watched his lips part as he shifted on his feet. 

“I’m fine.” His words did not match the look in his eyes. 

With a deep breath, Jaime tried a different approach. “You’d spare me some unpleasant nightmares if you let me take the overnight shift.”

Something akin to appreciation flashed in Barristan’s eyes as he glanced fleetingly towards Jon. With a small nod, Barristan cleared his throat. “When is your next shift?”

“Midday on the morrow.”

Barristan nodded slowly before leaving. Loud enough for his ears only, Barristan muttered his thanks. When Barristan left, Jaime endured endless teasing from Jon, but he cared little. He couldn’t stand to see another person go through the pain that Jaime knew all too well. 

* * *

The only thing spreading faster through King’s Landing than Aerys’ madness were rumors of Rhaegar’s marriage to Ashara. Varys dispatched his little birds to monitor for signs of discord or treason in the kingdoms. It wasn't long until word reached Winterfell of Rhaegar’s wedding to Ashara after the same woman’s betrothal to Eddard. Two moon turns after Rhaegar took Ashara as his second wife, Lord Rickard Stark made his way to the city to request audience with Aerys. Jaime cringed as the head of House Stark stood before the king demanding explanation. 

“Your Grace, I negotiated a betrothal between my House and House Dayne. Our faiths may be different, but we united in the view that a man may take only one wife. Your ancestors have long done away with this practice of taking multiple wives. It is an offense to your loyal kingdoms and their faiths that your son may take multiple brides and deprive our sons of matches.”

While the North worshiped the old gods, one shared belief between the faiths was the sanctity of marriage between man and wife. To take a second wife was considered sinful, but that Rhaegar took the woman betrothed to Rickard’s son gave offense to House Stark, and sent a clear message to the other lords.

At Rickard’s questioning of Aerys, the king grew irate. “Who are you to dictate to me what my House has done or may do!? My son could take all your wives if he so chooses!”

The hall fell quiet and Lord Rickard’s eyes narrowed in question. “Your Grace, it is not merely my son’s broken betrothal that I represent, but this _very_ concern raised by your words. What would stop your son from taking any woman he desires? Prince Viserys could do the same to the next generation of nobles. This insults your people and their faiths. It will cause strain as it is already doing. This shakes the foundation of our kingdoms. There will be discord.”

Aerys stood from his chair and snarled. “I’ll have your head for this! Throw him in the cells! Send word to his son that if he wants his bride, he can come and collect her.”

As Jaime feared, Rhaegar’s decision set off a series of events that would forever change the realm. With his father’s imprisonment, Brandon stormed down the kingsroad and burst into the Keep demanding answers. “My father came to you earnestly to raise concerns, and you throw him in a cell!? His issue is not unfounded, and other nobles are worried about the precedent the crown is setting!” 

Unlike Rickard, Brandon was not composed. Aerys anticipated that Rickard’s son would journey south, but it was Ned that he expected. Instead, Aerys had Rickard’s heir who was arguing for his father’s release. Aerys took the opportunity to send a message to the realm. There would be no questioning House Targaryen. 

Both Stark men stood accused of treason. Lord Rickard pleaded for his son’s life, but Aerys heard none of it. Something broke in Jaime at the sight of Rickard Stark being hoisted to the rafters with wildfire set out below and a leather cord serving as a strangulation device when Brandon desperately tried to get to his father. 

Jaime’s body was in the room, but his mind was elsewhere. Distantly he heard the Starks screaming. He heard Aerys’ sickening laughter. Strangely, it was the silence of court that was deafening. 

Jaime had been going away inside for nearly two years now, but this was the first time that he failed to recall parts of the day. The first person to speak to Jaime after the horrific scene in the throne room was his Lord Commander. The White Bull pulled Jaime into the hallway; his eyes staring through Jaime as though looking for a place to embed the words rather than impart wisdom. 

“You swore a vow to guard the kin, not to judge him.”

The words were a reprimand for the unasked questions on Jaime’s lips. He nodded absently and watched as the White Bull stormed towards the White Sword Tower. Everything felt more dream than reality for the next several hours. Jaime was lost in his own mind as he stood guard outside Aerys’ door. When he came back to himself, he could hear Rhaella’s screams from the other side of the wooden partition blocking Jaime from his knightly vows. On more than one occasion, Jon shook Jaime from his stupor. 

“Are you hearing me? Gods dammit boy, pay attention.”

It was all wrong. They needed to defend Rhaella. They should have saved the Starks. Were the men truly dead? Was it a dream? Perhaps he was drunk again, though Jaime didn’t recall drinking.

Rough hands pushed Jaime into his sleeping cell, and Jaime dropped to the floor. Suddenly, the room felt too small. The images of the day crested over him like a relentless string of towering waves at sea. Jaime’s breathing began to labor as the screams of the men echoed in his mind. The smell of death consumed his senses. Jaime crawled across the room towards the chamber pot. What little was in Jaime’s stomach emptied into the basin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away the sounds, sights, and smells of the day. 

Jaime’s armor felt like it was crushing his ribs and preventing the air from filling his lungs. He struggled to get the straps off, but another pair of hands were quickly working at the armor. 

“Breathe, Jaime!” Barristan’s voice was a command. 

Soon the armor was off and Jaime’s head hit the floor. It was all too much, and the darkness consumed him. When Jaime came to, he was laying on the bed in his room with a wet cloth over his head. Jaime’s vision was blurred and he struggled to recall where he was. Dragging the cloth off his head, Jaime glanced around the room and saw Barristan asleep. His head was cradled in his arms as he sat in a chair and leaned onto the table. 

The realization that someone else was there with him made Jaime’s body relax. For the first time since he arrived at the Red Keep, Jaime didn’t feel entirely alone. Jaime drifted back to sleep and enjoyed the dreamless state that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same end for Rickard and Brandon sadly (different actions on their part leading to it).


	5. Barristan I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War breaks out as Aerys continues to make cruel, maddened decisions. Barristan finds himself unable to take action as he wants to, and Jaime is left in a precarious situation.

Barristan stood guard in the throne room and stared blankly at the back wall. It had been just over a day since Barristan stood by and watched as Rickard and Brandon Stark were executed before all of court. Just over a day since Barristan questioned what exactly it was he was guarding. 

Keeping his vows had never been more difficult than it had been in recent years. Aerys was a shell of himself. The man who Barristan once rescued from Duskendale was long gone. Now all Barristan saw was a madman with an unquenchable thirst for fire and blood. 

For days after a criminal was executed, the smell of burning flesh, voided bowels, and charred bone lingered in the throne room. Just when the smell would begin to dissipate, another criminal was executed by way of fire. In years past, the convicted would have been executed by the king’s justice. Now the king’s justice came in the form of green flames and ear-piercing screams. 

Skulls of Targaryen dragons long-dead stared down at the fiery proceedings with something akin to disgust in their hollow eye sockets. It was wrong, and Barristan knew it, but it wasn’t until the unjustified killing of Rickard and Brandon Stark that Barristan allowed himself to admit it. 

Rumors swirled that the North was readying for war. Inwardly, Barristan cursed Brandon’s rash movement south for his father. _If he had waited… allowed cooler heads to prevail…_ Barristan knew his thoughts were false. Rickard was as good as dead the moment he entered the throne room and questioned Aerys’ ruling to block his son’s betrothal to Ashara. 

Barristan felt trapped and lost. A man of his vows, Barristan warred with himself. _Which vow is meant to come first? Surely the Kingsguard vows? If I break those vows, it is punishable by death and sanctioned in the eyes of the gods._

Still, Barristan did nothing. He stood tall and hollow. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, one could be forgiven for thinking him dead. Part of Barristan had gone numb to Aerys over the years. It was a gradual descent into madness. Nothing about Aerys was abrupt aside from his mood swings. The signs were there all along, and everyone was guilty of excusing him.

To a young knight like Jaime, the introduction to Aerys was anything but gradual. By the year Jaime took the White Cloak, Aerys was at his worst. It was a jarring experience as evidenced by Jaime’s despairing reaction to life as a Kingsguard. Barristan considered that had he taken the White Cloak at Jaime’s age, he would have reacted similarly. He might have even done something drastic. He had been you and idealistic once. Now he was numb and midway through life. 

_Is it midway or the end? Aerys seems poised to bathe us all in green flames. I always envisioned dying here, but not by my own king’s hand, and certainly not at five-and-forty._

Movement along the right side of the hall caught Barristan’s attention. Lady Ashara moved into the throne room slowly from the upper level that connected to Maegor’s Holdfast. She looked stunning in a tightly fitted pale-blue dress. Her shoulders were exposed, but covered by her long, dark hair. Haunting violet eyes glanced around the throne room and landed on her husband, Prince Rhaegar. 

Barristan looked to the floor and swallowed thickly. While Barristan thought Ashara should be owed a monogamous marriage as her faith would require, Barristan was at least pleased that Rhaegar treated her well. Unlike Aerys, Rhaegar was not a violent man and he was gentle with Ahsara from what Barristan could tell. Ashara did not flinch away from Rhaegar, but instead sank into his touch. Still, she seemed uneasy with it all, and Barristan’s heart broke for the young woman.

_Is it my fault? Did I bring unnecessary attention to Ashara by crowning her queen of love and beauty?_

Beside Rhaegar was Jon Connington. Both men stood before the throne and peered up at Aerys. It was Jon who spoke first. “Your Grace, word of treason in the Vale. Rumors swirl in the Stormlands that Robert ignored your hold on all noble marriages and wed Lady Lyanna Stark while attending the wedding of Lady Cersei Lannister and Lord Jon Arryn.

Barristan’s body stiffened at the words. He didn’t need to turn around to know Aerys’ reaction. The rage radiating off the king was palpable, and the sound of his long nails scraping against the length of the throne grated from atop the dais. 

“Is the Stark girl at Storm’s End now?” Aerys voice called out from his iron perch. 

Rhaegar shook his head in refute. “No, father. They maintain their distance to hide their union.”

Aerys stood and growled his orders. “Everyone out save for my Kingsguard and Varys!”

The room quickly cleared out until only the Kingsguard on duty, Barristan and Gerold, stood at the base of the stairs with Varys before them. Aerys descended the steps shakily as rage consumed his body. 

“They’re coming for my crown. Treason. Deceit. Insolence. War is coming for us, and I’ll bring fire. Varys, what do you hear of this?” 

The Spider inclined his head. “Your Grace, I spoke with Lord Connington just before he entered the throne room. My sources have confirmed hearing the same rumors from the north that swirl in the south.”

Aerys snarled and turned his attention to the White Bull. “For Robert’s defiance, I want House Baratheon _removed_. Lord Commander, fetch your best guards and bring them to me. I’ll give my orders then. Ser Arthur and Ser Jon will escort the queen and Prince Viserys to Dragonstone to wait out these treasonous winds. I want Princess Elia and the children brought here to be with Princess Ashara. I’ll not have Dorne be so foolish as to contemplate rebellion in any form.”

Barristan cringed at the words. The Princess and her children would not be safe in King’s Landing should rebelling kingdoms descend upon them. It would be best for them and Ashara to wait for the threat to pass at Dragonstone, but Barristan’s understood Aerys’ words for what they were. He was taking more political prisoners.

Aerys feared for some time that Dorne would rebel; particularly after Rhaegar took Ashara as his second wife. A royal command had been sent to Elia at Dragonstone to write to her kin and indicate her willingness and desire for Rhaegar’s second marriage. Aerys wanted Elia to smooth relations and demonstrate Rhaegar’s care for her life by not forcing a third babe on her; a babe that would kill her. Of course, Aerys cared little what became of Princess Elia. He only cared to uphold his rulings and ensure his line’s continuation.

Now Princess Elia and her children would be summoned to court and held as political prisoners until all threats were dealt with. Barristan committed to defending them as he would Rhaegar. The next words out of Aerys mouth were far from surprising as he spoke sternly to Gerold.

“You will prepare the crown for defense if the North is so foolish as to respond to their lord’s justified execution. Go! Get the men! I have plans for Robert.”

Glancing at Gerold, Barristan noted the stubborn resolve set into his jaw. The White Bull was arguably the fiercest and most loyal among them. If ever Barristan saw Ser Gerold waiver, he knew that his own oaths were bound to escape him like water seeping between fingers. 

Silently, Barristan followed Aerys towards Maegor’s Holdfast. The king muttered obscenities to himself as they walked. He ranted about them all; the Starks, the Baratheons, the known and unknown. Then he began to laugh. Aerys laughed as though the kingdoms’ grandest jape had been whispered into his ear.

Inwardly, Barristan pondered if the world had gone mad or only him. When Aerys entered his bedchambers and slammed the door behind him, Barristan leaned against the wall and released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

* * *

In one week’s time, a raven arrived from Storm’s End. Barristan listened in stunned silence as the attendant read the missive to Aerys in the throne room. As word of the Starks’ executions had not yet spread through Westeros, Robert allowed the crown’s men into his holding without knowledge of what was to come. 

Everyone except Robert was killed while they slept. Unknowingly, Robert had opened the gates to the Seven Hells. Barristan was not a cunning man. He despised trickery in any form, and knowing that Robert granted passage to the crown’s bannermen did not sit right with Barristan. Further that they were attacked in such cowardly fashion in the middle of the night set something off in Barristan. Old wounds bubbled to the surface, and Barristan felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

_It’s House Yronwood all over again._

Knocking firmly on Ser Gerold’s door, Barristan felt his heart hammering in his chest. When the White Bull bid him enter, Barristan felt outside of himself as he stepped in. “Is it true!? Does this missive embellish. What they did at Storm’s End…”

A warning glare preceded the White Bull’s rapid movement towards Barristan. “Don’t you dare speak treason in this room.”

“Since when is it treason for a knight to question such deplorable actions! Renly was a tot asleep in his bed! Cowards!”

Gerold grabbed Barristan by the jerkin and growled. “Enough! I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but you’re acting as green as the boy! House Baratheon defied the crown. They committed treason. You of all people, Barristan!? I never thought to have this conversation with _you_. Do your duty and follow orders. If you question our king again, he will hear about it.”

“Tell him then. I don’t fear death. What’s another pile of ash to sully the throne room floor.” Barristan stormed from the room and stomped the level down to his sleeping cell. He screamed and tossed over the table in a fit of rage. Images from the past swirling in his mind. Hiding. Yronwood. Screams.

Barristan slumped to the floor and tried to will away the visions that haunted him for much of his life. He squeezed his eyes shut and considered what to do. _I should just kill Aerys. He’s poised to kill us all anyway._

Jaime ran into the room and stared wide-eyed at Barristan. “Ser Barristan. Are you alright?”

At the sight of the young, traumatized knight, Barristan reprimanded himself for not keeping it together. His eyes quickly scanned the state of his room and shame washed over him. Attempting to downplay the noise and scene, Barristan nodded. “I was doing some drills. The yards proved too far away.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed, as he appraised the room. “Did the table put up a good fight?”

A strangled laugh pushed past Barristan’s lips as he buried his face in his hands. _Better than I can of late._

Days later the crown’s forces returned to the capital with Robert in chains. Aerys sent word demanding the execution of Lyanna Stark, Jon Arryn, and any other participants at the wedding. 

When Rhaegar heard of his father’s orders that transpired at Storm’s End, he rode out with Prince Lewyn to treat with the Stormlands. In his departure, he encouraged his father to name Lord Selwyn Tarth as Lord Paramount given line to their own House. The Tarths were well-respected in the Stormlands, and Rhaegar would attempt to make peace with the kingdom for his father’s actions. 

_“You’ll bring us war and more enemies for this. Lord Stannis and Lord Renly were innocent.”_

Aerys had sneered at his son’s concern. The king’s attention was turned towards the north. _“Let them come for me! All the traitors will burn if they seek to challenge my law! Robert brought disorder, and I’ll bathe him in fire and blood.”_

Barristan prayed to the gods that Rhaegar would suppress a rebellion to the south, but war to the north seemed unavoidable. Lord Arryn responded to Aerys’ decree by calling his banners in defense of House Stark and as retribution for House Baratheon. In a final act of defiance, Lord Eddard Stark honored his late brother’s betrothal and wed Lady Catelyn Tully in a hurried wedding. The Vale, Riverlands, and North were one. 

In a fit of rage, Aerys summoned Robert Baratheon from the cells. Like Rickard Stark, Robert Baratheon was set ablaze in wildfire. Barristan and Jaime had been at the docks escorting Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, and Prince Aegon when the deed was done. Upon returning to the Keep, Barristan was assaulted by the familiar stench of burning flesh when they arrived. 

Walking into the throne room, Barristan’s eyes went wide as the last of the flames consumed whatever poor soul lay beneath them. It wasn’t until Barristan saw the expression on the White Bull’s face that he knew who the king’s latest victim was. For the first time in his years twenty years of service to the crown, Barristan glanced away in disgust. _Rhaegar wouldn’t do this. Aerys must be removed._

Again, ravens flew in from Storm’s End with Rhaegar trying to suppress rebellion. He once more implored his father to name House Tarth as Lord Paramount to appease the shocked and repulsed kingdom. Under Varys’ encouragement, Aerys agreed, though that decision would come to haunt Aerys.

The banners were called across the Stormlands, the Reach, Dorne, the West, and the Crownlands. Unsurprisingly, the West refused to answer the call. Tywin could neither act against the crown at risk of losing Jaime, nor could he act against the Vale at risk of losing alliance with Lord Arryn. 

Dorne responded only for fear of what might befall Princess Elia and the children, but they were a kingdom divided. Many vassals sent partial numbers, and Varys’ little birds chirped of Dorne’s rage. _“The crown seems to think our noblewomen less than enough… let our numbers be less than enough.”_

With the south moving north and under Rheagar’s command, Aerys sent Barristan, Gerold, Oswell, and Lewyn in defense of the crown. Barristan begged Gerold to let him stay with Jaime. “Our king needs at least two Kingsguard. The princesses and children are here too.” _And I’ll tend to Aerys as I should have years ago. I’ll kill Aerys and Rhaegar will be king. He’ll take my head, but it will end the madness._

Gerold shook his head in refute. “We need the best on the field. The boy will be fine. We’re leaving ample men in the city for defense.”

“But if I could just…” Barristan was cut off as Gerold rounded on him and scowled.

“We _must_ keep Rhaegar alive. _That_ is the way out of this.” Without another word, the White Bull stormed away and left Barristan muttering obscenities under his breath. 

Then dread set in. Jaime was both a political prisoner and ill-prepared to guard the king alone. Unlike the more experienced knights who were numb to Aerys, Jaime reacted. Memories of trying to care for the boy after Rickard and Brandon were executed rushed to the forefront of Barristan’s mind. Before Barristan rode out, he pulled Jaime aside. 

“Do not earn the king’s ire. Keep enough distance while guarding him, and keep your mouth shut. Do not defy him and stay _present_. Do you understand?”

Barristan could practically hear Jaime’s heart hammering below his armor as he stared wide-eyed into the distance at the army moving north. It seemed safer to be headed into battle than remaining at Aerys’ side, and both men knew it. 

“Jaime? Do you understand?” At the second request for confirmation, Jaime nodded wordlessly. It was midway through the year 283ac, and unbeknownst to Barristan, it would be a year until he saw the young knight again.

* * *

The fighting had raged on for a year. In that time, Queen Rhaella birthed a daughter on Dragonstone, but Aerys lost his wife to the birthing bed. The king sent a wet nurse to Dragonstone, but he refused to recall his son and newborn daughter to the city. While the crown’s forces had won most of the battles, they had not won the war. 

Only a week prior, the Kingsguard suffered its first casualty of the war. Ser Oswell Whent took a longsword through the head as he stood at his prince’s side in battle. Among themselves, the Kingsguard did not discuss Oswell’s death. They were all worn out physically and emotionally from a year of fighting. Both sides were fatiguing and fighting grew sloppy. 

Now as Barristan stood in Rhaegar’s command tent alongside his sworn brothers and Rheagar’s most trusted commanders, he listened to plans for the following day’s battle

Pointing at the map, Rhaegar spoke commandingly. “We have the North’s contingent on the retreat here to the west of Darry. We’ll continue to beat them back towards the east, but I want a concealed contingent at the base of the hill to the east. We’ll collapse in on them during their retreat. If I can get to Ned in the chaos and end him, the Northern forces will scatter and leave us with only the Vale and Riverlands to deal with.”

Splitting their forces was a risk, but Barristan nodded in understanding. He and Jon Connington would lead the group at the west of Darry, while Prince Lewyn and Prince Rhaegar led the concealed attack to the east. Ser Gerold and a group of commanding officers would return to the south where fighting raged near Harrenhal. 

The next day, Barristan stared out at the field ahead. He knew Prince Lewyn to be a good friend of Rhaegar, but not being at the prince’s side felt worrisome. If they lost Rhaegar in battle, all hope for the crown was lost; not in numbers, but in resolve. Aerys was now widely acknowledged as mad and unfit for the throne, but the smallfolk loved Rhaegar and he commanded the respect of the lords. Barristan knew that he would make a strong king if only he had the chance. At the same time, Barristan lamented that Rhaegar’s pursuit of Ashara had led them into war. 

Donning his helm and glancing back at their men, Barristan steeled himself. The battlefield was where he felt most alive. It was where he ended past wars in service to the crown, and where he hoped to help end the war today. With his eyes narrowed on Ned Stark in the distance, Barristan commanded his contingent forward. 

As with most of the battles in the yearlong war, the fighting was unskilled as men lacked reprieve from war. Cutting through the rebel army, Barristan urged his contingent forward. As they planned, they drove the North’s forces back on their heels and towards the east. The crown’s numbers held advantage in the battle, but it was the element of surprise they would rely on. 

With the North’s forces moving backwards up the hill, Barristan kept his eyes locked on the young Ned Stark. He was far from the best fighter that Barristan had seen in battle, but he was stubborn and determined. His resolve was rooted in demand for vengeance for his kin and friend, and that kind of will was difficult to break in a man. 

Barristan’s horse was cut down from under him, and the middle aged knight found himself on foot. Spinning left and right, Barristan continued to drive the Northmen back up the hill. Then something shifted on the field. Calls for aid at the rear lines caught Barristan by surprise. Glancing over his shoulder, Barristan’s eyes went wide. 

A sea of Valemen were moving quickly towards them from the south. Either Jon Arryn’s group had found victory near Harrenhal, or they too had broken into smaller groups. A heightened urgency to protect his prince consumed Barristan. Turning forward, he ran ahead and uphill. As the Northmen reached the crest, they began to stumble backwards into awaiting swords as Rhaegar’s contingent met them from the other side. 

They were two warring groups being pressed in by two concealed groups. The thought alone was enough for Barristan to feel suffocated, but he pressed onward in search of Rhaegar and Lewyn. When at least he spotted them, Barristan slashed through unskilled Northmen as one might a training dummy. 

Ned was surrounded by his top generals as Rhaegar set his sights on the rebelling Stark. Then Barristan saw the threat to his prince’s life. Standing to the northern crest of the hill, a group of archers took aim at the incoming contingent led by Rhaegar. They weren’t just any archers. 

_Tarth archers_ . _We’ve been betrayed._ Barristan ran full force towards his prince as an archer took aim at a distance. 

“Look out!” Barristan screamed and slammed his shoulder into Rhaegar, taking the arrow for his prince. Searing pain cut through Barristan as the arrow burrowed into his left bicep. Groaning in agony, Barristan pulled his left arm across his body so that he could extract the arrow. Before he could defend himself, one of Ned’s generals shoved his sword into Barristan’s side just below the bottom of his breastplate. 

Rhaegar recovered from the ground and shoved his sword through the general’s throat. He pulled Barristan up by the arm, and together they continued to beat back the Northmen. In the chaos, Ned had moved away from Barristan and Rhaegar. Lewyn gave chase, but took a spear through the gut. The Dornish knight fell to his knees, and before Barristan could move in defense of his sworn brother, a sword took off Lewyn’s head.

In a rage, Barristan swung left and right with his sword in hand. As he ducked under one counter swing, Barristan reached for his dagger and dragged it across the man’s middle. Righting himself as the man fell to the ground, Barristan stabbed down with his sword before spinning left and killing a man taking aim at his prince. 

Suddenly, there seemed to be more Northmen than there were forces of the crown. Barristan moved back to his prince’s side and blocked attacks from all directions as he called for aid. The intent to end Ned Stark turned into a desperate struggle to get Rhaegar to safety. 

As more of the crown’s forces poured over the hill and came to their prince’s aid, Barristan needed to use his body as a shield one final time. Five men came at them with weapons raised high. Killing three before the Northmen could get to Rhaegar, Barristan spun left and stepped before his prince as the fourth man shoved his spear forward. The spear caught Barristan in the middle and below the armor, sending him to a knee. 

With his dagger still in hand, Barristan threw it into the fifth Northmen’s neck while Rhaegar decapitated the soldier’s whose spear was lodged in Barristan’s middle. It was the last thing that Barristan remembered before everything went black. 

* * *

Voices seemed to cover Barristan like a blanket as he slowly came to. Frantic shouts and barked commands echoed in his ears. Then some of the voices became clearer and Barristan could recognize them. Rhaegar and Gerold were standing over him and talking. 

Opening his eyes, Barristan saw the hazy outline of his Lord Commander and prince. “Get him back to the city at once. If we lose Barristan on top of Lewyn and Oswell, we’re fucked. I need Arthur recalled from Dragonstone. Jon will need to guard my siblings alone.”

A gust of wind brushed back Barristan’s blonde hair. The last thing Barristan remembered before the darkness consumed him again was Rhaegar’s hand at his shoulder. “You did well, Ser Barristan. Quite bold indeed, my friend.”

* * *

The carriage carrying Barristan back to the city jostled violently over the stony path. Barristan’s skin was slick with sweat from fever as a healer worked over him in the cart. “Almost there, ser.”

The pain was excruciating as Barristan struggled to bring the blurred image of the healer into focus. Medicinal salves assaulted Barristan’s nose as the man changed out bandages and applied more ointment. 

_I need to get back to battle. Prince Rhaegar needs me. If he falls, the crown falls._

Barristan tried to tell the healer as much, but his lips never parted. In between consciousness and unconsciousness, Barristan’s mind conjured memories king-suppressed. He saw the blood reaching out for him in the darkness. He heard his mother’s screams. He smelled the ale on his father’s breath.

Soon, Barristan felt hands grabbing him from all sides. “Ser Barristan! What happened to him?”

Jaime’s voice was near Barristan’s head. Through the haze, Barristan could make out the young man’s golden curls and piercing green eyes. The healer was nearby, but not as close. “He took an arrow, sword, and spear in defense of Prince Rhaegar.”

“I can fight in his place! Did Rhaeger send for me?” Jaime’s voice had a desperate edge that Barristan recognized even in his half conscious state. 

“No, ser. He is sending for Ser Arthur. Ser Jon will stay with the prince’s siblings while you stay with our king.” 

Barristan felt himself being lowered onto a bed. The room was one that Barristan knew better than any other in all the kingdoms. He was in his sleeping cell in the White Sword Tower. 

Rapid footsteps echoed off the four walls in the room, but only one presence stayed near. Jaime continued to pepper the healer with questions, but the responses were distant and Barristan’s mind delirious. 

For days, Barristan’s body fought the fever. Aside from the occasional presence of Grand Maester Pycelle, only Jaime was near. During the day, Jaime remained at the king’s side, and at night a group of Gold Cloaks stood guard. Without the rest of the Kingsguard in the city, the crown needed to rely on less skilled defenses in larger groups.

Jaime spoke more to himself than Barristan, but his tone remained desperate. The words were jumbled as Barristan clung to life. 

“Aerys is... Ser Barristan. Some of … Stormlands vassals turned on … in the battle you … The king thinks.... by Lord Tarth to claim his … by way of blood. He called for … Tarth to be dragged to … for execution. I think he’s … something in ....”

None of it made sense and Barristan wondered if it was all a dream. He tried to call out for a sword. If he could just kill Aerys it would be over, and Rhaegar would be king. The kingdoms could find peace, and Rhaegar could be convinced to release Ashara.

At last the fever broke and Barristan awoke to an empty room. The sun shone brightly through the single window in the small sleeping cell. For much of the day, Barristan stared at the ceiling and struggled to move. Pain coursed through his body with every effort to sit upright. Barristan’s abdomen and arm were bound tightly with bandages; the wrapping slick with ointment that sent strong medicinal smells into the air.

Then the bells began to toll. Barristan felt panic set in, but he couldn’t move. As he tried to lean onto his uninjured arm, a searing pain coursed through his body. Rapid footsteps from the hallway wafted under the door to Barristan’s room. A frantic looking Jaime ran inside. 

“Prince Rhaegar has fallen in battle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to try my best to double post today, but it may come in a few hours from this one.


	6. Tywin I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin receives word of the prince's death, and the demand for the heads of House Tarth. He finally makes his move in the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting of this and the prior chapter (Barristan I).

Tywin reread the missive his attendant had brought in only moments earlier. In a matter of days, the path to Aerys' downfall became clear. After a large contingent of Stormlanders led by Tarth’s archers turned on the crown, rumors swirled of victory slipping through the grasp of Prince Rhaegar.

Aerys’ madness had sent the realm into a downward spiral, though Tywin would place the greatest blame on Rhaegar. The young man had been too impertinent and further, he refused to take action against Aerys. The signs had been there for some time, and Tywin mused that had Rhaegar been a more cunning man, he could have had the entire realm against Aerys. Instead, Rhaegar waged his father’s war that began over  _ his  _ selfishness. 

In the last significant battle, Rhaegar had lost two great knights. Prince Lewyn met the Stranger in battle, but even more demoralizing, the prince lost his deadliest sword in Barristan the Bold. The knight was returned to King’s Landing with grave injuries sustained in battle, and now Rhaegar was exposed. 

Before the latest battle, Rhaegar recalled Ser Arthur from Dragonstone, but by the time Arthur arrived, his prince was dead on the field. All that stood between the rebels and victory were the desperate attempts of a weakened Kingsguard. Gerold and Arthur took up command of what little remained. Ser Jonothor Darry was left on Dragonstone to guard Viserys and the newborn babe, Daenerys. 

What followed was a series of maddened orders from Aerys. He called for the head of Selwyn Tarth and his children. Aerys was convinced the man had made a deal with the rebels in exchange for the throne. By that point in the war, everyone knew of House Tarth’s line with House Targaryen. Once more, it was thanks to Rhaegar.

Not long into Rhaegar’s search for a second wife, whispers circulated of Lord Selwyn’s lineage. After House Baratheon’s fall, the vassals of the Stormlands backed their newly appointed Lord Paramount, and called for him to take the crown. With Rhaegar dead and Aerys unprotected in the city, Selwyn Tarth had a clear path to the throne if he wished for it. Unsurprisingly, the honorable Lord Tarth made no claims, but Aerys’ paranoid decree left House Tarth with little option but to respond more boldly than positioning some archers in battle.

For the entirety of the war, Tywin had refused to intercede. With Jaime held hostage in King’s Landing and Cersei wed to Jon Arryn, Tywin found himself in an unwinnable situation. Unable to intercede, Tywin sat idle, but not ignorant. He had an informant in Grand Maester Pycelle who noted the king’s loosening grip on reality. He had informants spread throughout the kingdoms after many years as Hand. 

At first, Tywin was eager for the rebels to win. With Cersei wed to Jon, he could take the throne and she would become queen; her children kings. Already, Cersei had birthed Jon a son. Not long after their wedding, Cersei was with child. While Jon was in battle, Cersei birthed him a son named Jasper in honor of Jon’s father. 

Jon was an older man and not long for this world. With that knowledge in mind, Tywin would be able to control the kingdoms through Cersei until her children came of age. He would name himself Hand, and rule with greater unchecked power than he once had. 

Tywin used Cersei to plant the seed in Jon that he should take the throne, but Jon refused. He whispered nonsense about being too old to take the crown, but he would back someone worthy such as Ned Stark. Frustration mounted in Tywin at the wasted opportunity. Then, Tywin saw a way to not only survive, but thrive.

In the war with the crown, Genna’s husband, Emmon Frey, had fallen in battle. With him, both of Genna’s sons died on the field at their father’s side. Across the kingdoms, Selwyn Tarth found himself a man wanted by the crown, and without a wife. Per Tywin’s informants, Selwyn lost his wife to the birthing bed the year prior around the time that Robert was killed. The twin girls she birthed Selwyn died not long after. Just two moons ago, Selwyn’s only son drowned in the sea, leaving Selwyn with one living child; a girl of four.

When Pycelle wrote to inform Tywin of Aerys’ decree, Tywin took advantage. With his soldiers and vassals now fighting  _ against  _ the crown, Tarth was defenseless, and Aerys was readying city guards to siege the island. Tywin offered aid to the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, albeit with certain conditions. 

Tywin’s plan positioned House Lannister to gain power, and to do so, he would take advantage of Selwyn’s dire state.

_ Lord Tarth, _

_ As war rages to the north and the heads of you and your daughter are called for, I would offer aid from the West. As you know, the West has remained neutral in this war. Aerys holds my son as a political prisoner under the guise of Kingsguard. My daughter is wed to Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale. They fight for vengeance, but not a crown. _

_ The Stormlands call for you to take the throne, and the kingdoms know of your betrayal to the crown in battle. Take the throne with my support and the support of your kingdom. I only ask for two conditions. First, I want the release of my son and heir, Ser Jaime Lannister, from the Kingsguard. Second, take the throne and wed my sister, Genna Lannister, to unite our kingdoms.  _

_ With my connection to the Vale, I will encourage the rebels to stand down and bend the knee. This is the only way that you and your daughter will be safe. Send your daughter and what guards you have left to Casterly Rock by ship. We will keep her safe while we fight for your crown.  _

_ I’m calling my banners to move in your name. The rebels have no one to place on the throne once their thirst for vengeance is sated. I think we can both agree that Prince Viserys is unfit. The boy shows signs of madness like his father. Agree to my terms, and we’ll keep your daughter safe. _

_ Lord Tywin Lannister; Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, former Hand of the king _

Of course, Tywin considered that his assumptions were overstated and likely a lie, but Tywin needed Selwyn to feel threatened to encourage his acceptance. After nearly 300 years of Targaryen rule, the people would accept a House with a recent line to Aegon. A line not showing signs of madness. A line well-respected and deemed honorable. Through this alliance, a Lannister queen would carry out Tywin’s bidding, and his prefered heir would be returned to him. Perhaps he could even arrange a match between Jaime and the girl, though she was young now.

As war raged to the north, Tywin had his way in. His bannermen would march on King’s Landing and take the throne in Selwyn’s name. An immediate reply came, and Selwyn agreed to Tywin’s terms. Brienne Tarth was on a ship bound for Casterly Rock, and Selwyn Tarth was making his way towards King’s Landing. 

Before riding out, Tywin summoned Genna into his study. Dressed in his armor and prepared to depart, Tywin inclined his head towards the chair nearest his desk. Genna shuffled slowly to the seat and fell into it. Losing Emmon brought her no emotional strain. Her marriage to Emmon had been ill-advised and Tywin had argued against the insulting match while his father was alive.

His father had been a weak man who was desperate for allies and acceptance. Genna was betrothed to Walder’s second eldest son, and a wedding occurred not long after she flowered. The only person more putoff by the match than Tywin was Genna. Still, she was a dutiful woman who did what was expected of her. Genna bore Emmon two sons; Cleos born in 260ac and Lyonel born in 264ac. 

Both boys were knights, but weak like their father. Tywin had hardly been surprised when word arrived of their death on the battlefield. Genna had been beside herself with grief, and Tywin had little patience for it. 

_ “You mourn a weak man whose more regrettable traits passed to your sons. Tears won’t raise the dead, but your position can raise our House. When the time comes, you’ll play your part.” _

For five moons, Genna refused to acknowledge Tywin after his comment. Tywin cared little for her moping which proved counterproductive to their cause. Instead, Genna passed her time fussing over Tyrion. 

Now as Genna sat in the chair before him, Tywin spoke commandingly. “Do you know why I’m to ally with Lord Tarth and ride out to claim the throne in his name?”

Genna’s eyes darted suspiciously towards Tywin. In youth, Genna always looked upon Tywin as any little girl might a protective, big brother. Now Genna regarded Tywin with contempt. 

“Well considering you’ve no daughter to sell to him, I suppose you mean to use me just as our father once did.”

“Smart girl. He has accepted my offer. My army for your hand. You still have ample childbearing years at eight-and-thirty. See the maester before you leave. You should be examined and given any medicines necessary to encourage a productive bedding.” Tywin strapped his sword belt around his waist before reaching for his dagger.

“No.” Genna sneered at Tywin and leaned forward in the chair. “I was Emmon’s broodmare for most of my life. I’ll not be another man’s so that you may gain power through me.”

Tywin narrowed his eyes at his defiant, younger sister and walked closer. Towering over Genna, Tywin leaned down and whispered menacingly. “You will do as I command. I am the head of this House, and you will bring us the crown. The only way you’ll escape this marriage is if Jon Arryn dies in battle and Cersei can take your place.”

Genna raised a challenging brow. Indifference stretched across her features. “Then I hope he has a clean death. It’s the only way you’ll get a Lannister on that throne.”

Tywin’s hand gripped Genna’s shoulder and squeezed just enough to let her know the touch was not affection, but warning. “You will wed Lord Tarth, and you will give him a son. He has only one daughter left. She can have Tarth  _ unless  _ you give him two sons.”

Straightening to full height, Tywin took a step backwards and made to leave, but Genna stood quickly. Her fists balled at her sides and she shook her head slowly. “I said  _ no _ .”

Tywin felt his hand flex at his side. He had never struck his sister or any woman, but she was tempting him in the moment. Taking a deep breath, Tywin dangled the one thing before Genna that she would never refuse. 

“Then your precious little cub will die.”

At the reference to Jaime, Genna’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I made a deal with Lord Tarth. When the war is won and he marries you, his first act will be to release Jaime from the Kingsguard. If Aerys wins this war, you know what he’ll do to Jaime once he sees my army outside the city gates. If the rebels win this war, they will kill any living Kingsgaurd necessary to get to the last of the dragons.”

Taking a step towards Genna, Tywin enjoyed the panic swirling in her eyes. Like Jaime, Genna had a weakness for family and love. Where Tywin was willing to sacrifice to further their House, Genna and Jaime acted on their hearts’ desires. 

_ Weakness. I’ll resume training it out of the boy when he is returned to the Rock. Genna won’t be around to corrupt him any longer. I’ll get my son back, and I’ll make him a proper heir. _

“Now, I ask you one last time. Will you defy me in this? Shall I make arrangements for the funeral stones to cover....”

“I’ll do it.” Genna interrupted the question that she refused to hear. 

Without another word exchanged between them, Tywin set out for King’s Landing. The ride was quick and unobstructed. With the crown’s forces desperately trying to hold back the rebels from the city, Tywin had a clear path down the goldroad. 

In a fortnight, Tywin’s army stood outside the gates of the city. With only four household guards left to join him, Selwyn and his men met Tywin in the command tent. 

Tywin’s brows raised at the sight of the man. He was a head taller than Tywin himself, and nearly the width of the Mountain. Selwyn wore the azure and rose of Tarth, and his blonde hair hung loosely just below his jaw. His face was covered in a full blonde beard that made his deep blue eyes stand out in the darkness. 

Even under the cover of night, the man seemed to glow. He looked the part of a king, and Tywin would see it done. “My informants inside the gates will encourage the king to let my men through. Taking the city should be easy enough, and with Prince Rheagar dead, the crown’s forces fight just to our north to keep the rebels away from the city. Once Aerys is dead, the war will end. You and your daughter will be safe.”

Selwyn exhaled loudly and shook his head. “I never wanted any of this.”

_ Good. I don’t want you to want the throne. I want you agreeable to my influence.  _

Feigning distaste for the war, Tywin nodded in understanding. “Nor did I wish to enter this war. Now we must fight so that our children don’t die. My son is just as much threatened as your daughter, though at least your daughter is safe at Casterly Rock. My son is inside the Keep.”

Selwyn sighed and met Tywin’s eyes. “Then we’ll free him from this madness. I’ll join your men at the frontlines.”

“I need you to remain here. Allow my army to secure the city, and claim it in your name. Your guards must remain here to protect you.”

Begrudgingly, Selwyn agreed. Tywin could sense the man would be difficult to control where it concerned matters of war, but with such a small group of guards, Selwyn had little to offer in the fight. 

Once Selwyn left the tent, Tywin summoned Ser Gregor. The knight was the only man who could rival Selwyn in size. When the cold, uncaring eyes of Ser Gregor met Tywin’s, the Warden of the West spoke commandingly. 

“I want Rhaenys and Aegon dealt with once you reach the Red Keep. We can’t have any future heirs contesting the throne. Once you finish dealing with them, I want you to take your men to Dragonstone and kill the prince and princess.”

Ser Gregor nodded in understanding and left Tywin’s command tent. The cunning lord stepped outside his tent and took in the clear night sky which served as a backdrop to the Red Keep in the distance. Before Tywin, his House’s future stood. Genna would bring him the crown, and Jaime a legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, we get mostly POVs from our mains who are of age (Jaime, Selwyn, and Barristan though there is some Cersei sprinkled in and eventual Viserys). Brienne is a bit young for a POV at this point in the fic, but she becomes quite present in chapters, and she'll gets tons of POVs int his fic when the time comes. There are some time jumps of course.


	7. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reacts to the sight of his father's army at the gates. Aerys gives his final order, and Jaime takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: It's the Sack of King's Landing. While there are a couple of differences, some things are the same. I've made the decision to exclude certain details/descriptions, because it's disturbing and we all know. It's just awful.

Jaime’s mouth went dry as he stared into the darkness. A large number of his father’s forces stood outside the gates, ready to lay siege. Only a fortnight prior, word arrived that Rhaegar had fallen in battle. It was unknown who landed the killing blow, but the rebels suffered similar casualties and grave injuries of their own. 

Rumors swirled that Ned Stark lay gravely wounded with healers desperately working to treat the man. Jon Arryn was alive, but with on less arm than he entered war with. Each side was weak and fatigued, and it hardly surprised Jaime that his father now stood outside the city walls. This would not be a battle. This would be a sack. 

That morning, the final blow to the crown arrived. Ser Gerold had fallen in battle, and most of Aerys’ forces scattered to the wind. Only Ser Arthur and a small band of remaining loyalists clawed their way back to the capital to try and give aid to the king and royal family. It didn’t seem to matter, however. Not with Jaime’s father at the gate.

Barristan had panicked hours ago when he heard of the West’s approach. He insisted on taking the royal family to safety, but struggled to move and Pycelle gave him something for the pain. Whatever the Grand Maester gave him, Barristan made it no more than three steps before falling unconscious. Jaime had looked to Pycelle with horror in his eyes.

_ “What did you give him!?” _

Pycelle had stammered and feigned innocence.  _ “Just a small dose of poppy. He’s in no condition to be moving around, and we can’t leave the Keep. Aerys has not ordered an evacuation.” _

Then Tywin sent word into the city. He claimed loyalty to the king and offered protection to the crown’s weakened defense. Varys saw through the missive for what it was; a ploy. Unsurprisingly, Grand Maester Pycelle encouraged Aerys to open the gates. 

“Lord Tywin has always remained true to you in this war. He has withheld aid to the rebels despite his daughter being wed to Lord Arryn. We can trust your friend and former Hand.”

_ Friend. Tywin is as capable of being someone’s friend as Aerys is.  _

Under Pycelle’s encouragement, Aerys opened the gates. As Jaime and Varys expected, the Lannister forces began to sack the city. Once more, Jaime begged the king to allow him an opportunity to treat with the invading army. 

Leaning towards Jaime, Aerys spoke with hate in his voice and wildfire in his eyes.The king’s breath was putrid from days of poor hygiene. His long, curled fingernails jabbed out at Jaime and gestured towards the door. “I want him dead, the traitor. I want your father’s head. You'll bring it to me, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors.”

Jaime could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he stepped away from the king. He considered fleeing to the White Sword Tower to try once more and rouse Ser Barristan. The knight was still in poor condition and unfit for battle, but he would know what to do whereas Jaime feared failing. More so than failing as a Kingsguard, Jaime feared failing as a knight. 

He had heard the maddened whispers about the wildfire caches being positioned throughout the city. Under his breath, Aerys muttered the same phrase that he had for days.  _ “Burn them all. Burn them all.” _

Jaime stood atop the battlements and watched with mounting dreads as his father’s forces pushed their way through the city and closer to the Red Keep. The city defenses were no match for the Lannister army, particularly after a large number were sent to destroy Tarth. Jaime glanced back at the White Sword Tower and gnawed at his lip.  _ I need Ser Barristan. _

Before Jaime could step away from his position, his messenger arrived. “Ser Jaime, Rossart has just left Aerys after giving council.”

Jaime knew it then. The pyromancer had been working tirelessly, and the man was constantly in Aerys’ ear. Jaime knew that the order had been given, and soon they would all be naught but ash. Jaime dashed through the Keep and crossed paths with Rossart. The man tried to fight and claw his way towards his destination, but he stood no chance of escaping Jaime’s sword. With Rossart dead at a postern gate, and blood dripping from his blade, Jaime moved towards the throne room. 

All Jaime could hear was the frantic beating of his heart. The sounds of battle in the city faded into the distance as he entered the room. Aerys sat perched atop his precious throne. Staring at the king, Jaime called out daringly. 

“We’ll not burn with you. I killed your man.”

Everything faded away except the king as Jaime stalked forward. Aerys’ eyes went wide and he tried to flee, but Jaime grabbed hold of him. The overwhelming mix of adrenaline and panic made everything seem a blur. As Aerys’ squirmed and struggled, Jaime unsheathed his sword. So lost in the moment was Jaime that he did not see the figure enter the room from a side door.

Aerys gasped and his mouth flew open. As Jaime dragged his blade across the mad king’s throat, he glanced down and saw the tip of a sword piercing Aery’s chest from the backside. As the king’s body slumped to the floor and blood pooled at Jaime’s feet, he stepped back slowly. Jaime’s ears were ringing and panic set in.

When his eyes lifted, he saw a weak and panting Barristan at Aerys’ back. Barristan was on his knees and yanked his sword from Aerys’ body. Both of their swords had ended Aerys’ mad reign. Not a moment before Jaime could blink, Ser Elys Westerling and Lord Roland Crakehall entered the hall. They took in the scene before them; their eyes wide and mouths ajar. 

Uncertain what to do, Jaime commanded the men to spread word of Aerys’ death; to stop the sack of the city. As the men left, Barristan grabbed Jaime’s arm. His voice was pained as his eyes remained fixed on Aerys. “What happened? What is going on?”

“The wildfire.” It was all Jaime could say.

Barristan’s eyes bored into Jaime’s. “What wildfire?” 

“Aerys he… he gave the signal. I killed Rossart before coming here.” Jaime hadn’t realized he was shaking until Barristan reached down and stilled his wrist. 

“Where is it?” Barristan’s words sounded distant as he stared at Jaime in horror. 

Jaime shook his head. “Everywhere. All over the city. He’s been… they’ve been placing it for days… and I… the throne. We need to stop my father from...” 

Jaime’s mind was being pulled in all directions. He didn’t want his father to claim the throne. He didn't want anyone to find the wildfire. He didn’t want the West to overrun the city. Uncertain what to do, Jaime had the overwhelming urge to sit on the throne and ensure no one unworthy claimed it. As with Aerys, the wrong king could mean death for all.

Panic was setting in once more, but Barristan grabbed Jaime’s shoulder hard. “Where are the princesses and the children?” 

“I… I don’t know. Their rooms?” 

“The royal family. We need to guard them.” Barristan’s eyes were frantic as he dragged Jaime towards Maegor’s Holdfast. “We must move quickly.”

For a man still struggling to recover from injury, Barristan moved faster than expected. He was without armor, but he held his bloodied sword in hand. Jaime heard loud shouting the closer they came to the royal apartments. He realized with sickening dread that his father’s men were already inside. 

Unspoken worry passed between the sworn brothers as Jaime sprinted ahead. When he turned the corner, Jaime saw his father’s men laughing and shouting outside the nursery. 

“Stop!” Jaime’s voice was as much a plea as a command. His eyes were wide as he heard the frantic screams of a woman, though he didn’t recognize if it was Elia or Ashara.

The men raised their swords, but faltered at the sight of Tywin’s heir. “Weapons down! Not Ser Jaime!”

Jaime cared little for what the men chose to do in response to his presence. He began to cut through every man in his path. “Get out! Back!”

At Jaime’s back, Barristan pushed past him and into the room. Barristan screamed upon his entry. The scream was not one of rage or warning, but devastation. Whatever Barristan saw, Jaime feared confronting it. These men were the Mountain’s; cruel and unrelenting.

Stepping into the room, Jaime gasped at the carnage. Barristan swung wildly at Ser Gregor, but he was still weak and injured. The Mountain lifted Barristan by the neck and slammed him into the wall. Without a second thought, Jaime surged forward and thrust his sword into Ser Gregor’s side.

The Mountain dropped Barristan and sank to his knees in agony. Without glancing backwards, the Mountain swiped angrily with his dagger and cut across Jaime’s thigh. When he saw Jaime’s face, his eyes went wide in realization.

The Mountain had little time to recover from the shock before Barristan shoved his dagger into Ser Gregor’s neck. Gasping for air, Barristan crawled towards the lifeless body of Elia and glanced around desperately. “Rhaenys and Ashara. They’re not here…” 

Jaime had to turn his head away from it all. The Mountain didn’t simply murder the princess and Aegon. He destroyed them. 

_ Where are Ashara and Rhaenys? Where would they have gone? _

Mumbled words spilled from Barristan’s lips as though he was reading Jaime’s mind. “Hiding. The beds.” Barristan grabbed Jaime at the top of the breastplate and yanked him close. “The royal bedchambers. Check under every bed.”

Both men stood and moved into the hallway. Any man left standing quickly fell to the Kingsguard’s blades as Jaime and Barristan cut a path towards the stairwell. Running up the flight of stairs to where the prince and princesses’ rooms would be, Jaime heard more screaming. This time, he recognized the voice as Ashara’s.

Running towards Ashara’s room, Jaime fought off a group of three men standing outside the room. He gasped at the sight of Amory Lorch stabbing Ashara as he pulled her from under the bed. Rhaenys’ cries filled the room as the four-year-old watched in horror. 

“Get her out!” Barristan screamed at Jaime as he ran forward and tackled Amory. 

Doing as he was bid, Jaime pulled Rhaenys from under the bed and ran into the hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime winced at the sight of Barristan stabbing Amory repeatedly with the man’s own dagger. As Jaime stood panting and trying to shield Rhaenys from the sight, over twenty Lannister bannermen entered the hallway from the stairwell.

“Ashara! Please!” Barristan’s voice captured Jaime’s attention. Amory lay in a pool of his own blood, but Barristan was holding Ashara tightly in his arms on the floor. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Jaime watches as Ashara’s violet eyes rolled to the back of her head. Blood poured from her mouth and wounds as she took her last breath.

“Ser Barristan… they’re here. We need to go.” Jaime’s voice betrayed his unease. The words snapped something in Barristan and he stood on shaky legs. Stumbling into the hallway, Barristan grabbed his sword; his face the picture of rage and agony.

The guards were closing in from both sides and commanding their surrender. Clutching Rhaenys tightly, Jaime glanced uneasily at Barristan. Without taking his eyes off the approaching men, Barristan’s pained voice instructed Jaime. “Don’t let her go. Don’t let them take her.” 

Without another word, Barristan surged forward and began cutting through any man in his path. Barristan was a man possessed. He cut down half a dozen men before Jaime could blink. In his effort, Barristan earned another stab wound to the side. Even with another serious injury, trying to stop Barristan was like trying to calm an enraged, wounded animal. No amount of begging on Jaime’s part could still Barristan’s hand. 

_ Seven hells.  _

The men began to back up when Barristan made quick work of another half dozen men. He was in a blind, grief-stricken rage. Jaime followed Barristan and held tightly to Rhaenys. He kept her head pressed to his breastplate so the young girl would not see the carnage. 

“Barristan, stop! It’s over! Please!” Jaime continued to beg Barristan while keeping just out of the older knight’s range. 

From down the hall, throngs of Lannister bannerman poured into the cramped space at the behest of their brothers in arms. The hallway was littered with bodies and blood pooled on the stone floor. Jaime’s feet began to falter as he slipped on rivers of blood. In a desperate attempt to keep Barristan safe from his father’s men, Jaime called out.

“If anyone stabs Ser Barristan, I’ll tell my father you drew my blood!” 

With swords drawn and unease in their eyes, the West’s bannermen tried to block Barristan’s blows without countering. Barristan was carving a path of death through the approaching men. Jaime tried once more to plead with Barristan, but his sworn brother registered nothing.

_ We can’t escape this. They’ll not kill her in my arms. I won’t let them. _

Fearful of Tywin’s wrath, the Lannister bannerman closed in slowly, but did not aim to kill. They reached out to tackle Barristan. Desperate hands reached for any limb to still the renowned knight. When there were too many to fight off, Barristan soon found himself pinned to the floor. The older knight screamed and cursed them all. He spat threats and flailed under the weight of the men. 

When at last he was contained and his body too weak to struggle, Barristan was dragged kicking and screaming towards the cells. Unwilling to leave his sworn brother and play at acceptance for his father’s actions, Jaime stepped into the cell that Barristan was thrown into. He held tightly to Rhaenys and threatened to kill any man entering who wasn’t Tywin.

Despite the injuries earned that night and in the battle near the Neck, Barristan was pure adrenaline. He kicked and rattled the cell bars. It wasn’t until he struggled for breath that Jaime felt safe to approach. 

“Ser Barristan… Please… calm down.”

His sworn brother seethed. “Calm down!? That  _ thing _ defiled the princess! He… he crushed Aegon! That monster killed Ashara!”

“They’re dead. You killed them and every man with them. They’re in the Seven Hells now. Please.”

For as lost as Jaime had felt after slaying Aerys, he was entirely clear-minded now. His eyes followed Barristan around the cell as the knight paced and struggled for breath. His injuries were beginning to slow his steps as the adrenaline wore off. 

When Barristan heard Rhaenys’ sobs, he stilled. “I’m sorry.”

Soon Barristan was swaying on his feet. Blood from the wound at Barristan’s side had dripped to the floor and marked his maddened path. The knight slumped to the ground and sucked in ragged breaths. He whispered more to himself than Jaime. “I failed them. They’re dead.”

Jaime felt a deep pang of sympathy. “I was on guard. I… I should have gone to them sooner.”  _ How though? I only just killed Aerys. I couldn’t have gotten there. _

Barristan flopped to his back. His skin was pale and the wound at this side was bleeding substantially. “You did well. You stopped it… You’ve got Rhaenys. Don’t let them take her.”

Then he was unconscious. Aside from quiet whimpers, Barristan’s breathing evened out as the blood loss and exhaustion took over. Jaime rolled Barristan to his side and tried to wrap the wound with shredded fabric from his white cloak. Then Jaime wrapped his own leg and took his first deep breath in what felt like weeks.

Uncertain what to do, Jaime wrapped Rhaenys in the rest of his cloak. Rhaenys was still frightened and Jaime didn’t want her to see Barristan wounded and dying. With his back to Barristan, Jaime laid on the ground with Rhaenys and tried to comfort her. As he lay there, Jaime replayed the scene several times. Each time, he tried to find a new path to get to princesses before the Mountain and Amory did. No path saw Jaime stopping Rossart  _ and  _ stopping the Mountain in time.

Then a familiar voice echoed off the walls of the cells. “Get my son out of there!”

Torchlight illuminated the passageway between cells and two figures came into view. The unmistakable outline of his father caused Jaime to sit upright. For a moment, he felt like a boy of five preparing to receive his scolding. Jaime’s arm brushed Barristan’s back as he leaned up and peered into the darkness. 

The presence of his sworn brother and the princess had a strange effect on Jaime. In the throne room, Barristan was strong where Jaime felt panicked and uncertain. When Barristan was beside himself with grief and rage, Jaime was calm. Feeling Barristan’s unconscious body at his side gave Jaime a new resolve. He would not cower before the man who unleashed his dogs on a defenseless city at the end of war.

“Jaime. Get up. Lets go. Bring the princess.” Tywin spoke commandingly as he pointed towards the cell door. The soldier at Tywin’s side scurried forward with a key, and stammered an apology at his bumbling with the lock.

“No. Unless you come to recognize Viserys Targaryen as king, we are enemies. I am sworn to protect the royal family.”

_ Viserys would make a shit king, but my father would be worse. Perhaps Rhaenys would make a fine queen with her kin to guide her. _

Tywin scoffed at the words. When the cell door creaked open, Tywin stepped inside. His eyes narrowed and even in the darkness, Jaime could make out the reddening of his father’s features. “House Targaryen has lost the crown by conquest. Their kin rules now; House Tarth.”

“Does Viserys still live?” Jaime’s question was devoid of emotion as he stared at his father.

Tywin’s head tilted slightly at the question, but he spoke brusquely. “Yes.”

“Then I recognize no sovereign except Viserys or Rhaenys. Unless you came to bring aid to my sworn brother, I have nothing to say to you.”

Jaime had never spoken so dismissively to his father, but at his side, Barristan began to stir. His breathing was shallow as he lay in a pool of his own blood. In his delirious state, Barristan called out for a weapon. “Jaime… sword…”

Placing a hand at his sworn brother’s shoulder to offer reassurance, Jaime held Tywin’s eyes. “A healer.”

Without another word, Tywin left the cell. “When you’re ready to have a rational conversation with me, I’ll return.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide as his father left and the door was locked once more. “Get him a healer! He’ll bleed out like this!”

Running towards the bars of the cell, Jaime called out for aid. His thigh throbbed and the sudden movement caused more blood to drip from the wound that he had wrapped with a shredded piece of his cloak. At his back, Barristan’s weak voice called out. “Jaime…”

Turning around, Jaime moved quickly to Barristan and dropped to his knees. Rhaenys was still asleep and wrapped in what remained of Jaime’s cloak. The older knight’s eyes fluttered open and met Jaime’s. “Tell them… tell them I did it alone. Let them… take my head. Not yours.”

“No! I’ll accept whatever punishment they give.” Jaime knew it was likely death. He had broken his vows and killed his king. On the ground, Barristan only shook his head in refute. 

“Blame me. I failed. Not you.”


	8. Selwyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn enters the city and is not pleased by what he finds.

Selwyn walked through the streets as though caught in a dream. His eyes watered as he stared in disbelief at the destruction he saw. While most of the dead were Gold Cloaks, there were some civilians who had been caught between the warring groups. Children sat crouched by their dead mothers and fathers; their faces stained with tears and their eyes filled with horror.

_What have they done? They were to secure the Keep. Not this._

With his guards at his side, Selwyn moved through the streets and towards Aegon’s Hill. The victory cry of the West echoed off the buildings surrounding Selwyn. He felt ill at the sound. 

Selwyn was a man who had lost his way. Only a year prior, a day of joy became the worst moment of Selwyn’s life. Just a few simple words brought down the family that he had built stone by stone. _‘I’m sorry, my lord. I couldn’t save her’_. 

His wife died on the birthing bed after delivering twin girls into his arms. Moon turns later, the girls were laid to rest beside his wife on the cliffside. Not long before Aerys ordered House Tarth’s execution, Selwyn’s son and heir drowned in the sea. Galladon was only eight. 

Selwyn remembered the day as the first moment of clarity since his wife’s death. A household guard had sprinted from the beach screaming and holding a dead Galladon in his arms. At the sight, Selwyn himself felt lost to the sea. His lungs burned as though filled with seawater; an intense burning made worse by any attempt to take a breath. 

At the guard’s back, Brienne had followed slowly. She was soaking wet and frightened. Her eyes were wide, and a whisper was at her lips. Selwyn never asked what happened. The pain was always present, but he could never form the words to express them.

Distantly, Selwyn recalled his advisor's words in the weeks and moons that followed. 

_‘Aerys named you Lord Paramount. What do we do?’_

_‘The crown calls the banners? What is your order?’_

_‘The Stormlands call for you to take the throne. How do you respond?’_

Selwyn felt as though he had been walking around in a fog. The voices were distant and he couldn’t find his path forward. The drink awaited Selwyn from the moment his eyes fluttered open until the moment they closed for the day. If the Stranger took pity and consumed him while he slept, Selwyn cared only that someone watch over Brienne. His friend and Master-at-Arms, Ser Goodwin, condemned Selwyn and threw the near-empty bottle of brandy at the wall.

_“Wake up! The bloody kingdom and your daughter are drowning with you.”_

The words cut through the trance. When he suddenly registered for the first time all that was happening, he flew into a rage. _My cousin did what!? He murdered the Starks? He murdered my liege lord for… for marrying the woman he loved? All so his son could take any woman he wanted. What if Rhaegar had come for my wife? My love._

Selwyn could not, would not, support the crown. _‘Send our best archers to kill the prince. Then we’ll turn our attention to Aerys as he hides in his bloody Keep. The Stormlands will not abide by this madness!’_

Just weeks after the orders were given, a missive arrived that the crown had called for his and Brienne’s head. Rhaegar was still alive; Selwyn’s best archers had uncharacteristically missed their mark. Unarmed and with the royal fleet poised to make their way east, Selwyn had stared out at the yards where Brienne ran around picking flowers. 

Were it not for Brienne, Selwyn would have gladly provided his head to Aerys. He had little desire to live in a world where the gods stole his wife and children, only for men like Aerys and Rhaegar to live and rule.

Before Tywin Lannister’s missive arrived, Selwyn was planning for a ship to take Brienne to Essos. _Let her find some compassion in this shit world. The seven hells are coming for me, but I’ll not let them pull her down too._

Then Tywin’s offer came. Selwyn rolled and unrolled it several times. Tywin’s reputation preceded him. Former Hand of the king with a reputed lust for power. Still, he offered safety for Brienne. 

Selwyn agonized over his reply. When his wife died, he swore to never again take another; to father no children other than hers. He would not dishonor his wife’s memory by trying to replace her or the children they lost. Instead, Selwyn warmed his belly with the drink and visited the brothels to try to stuff down the pain.

It never made him feel better after the fact, but in the moment, it made him forget. It made him forget until he looked at Brienne. She had her mother’s eyes; innocent, wide, and the prettiest blue he had ever seen. 

_“Go to your septa. I’ve not time for stories or games.”_ He hated himself more for it.

For hours, Selwyn stared at the missive. He hadn’t noticed the tears until they fell onto the parchment and blurred the ink. _I must accept his terms, or my girl dies. I’ve no defenses left on the island. This is our only chance._

Selwyn committed to never loving Tywin’s sister nor giving her babes. The union would be a political marriage and nothing more. When the woman arrived at court, he would be honest with her. From there, she could decide for herself if she wished to go through with it.

Now as Selwyn walked through the carnage stretching out as far as the eye could see, he wondered if his wife would be proud that he saved Brienne or disgusted at the cost. _Disgusted. I saved our daughter, but at the cost of my honor._

Selwyn sword dragged along the dirt path below his feet. His arm felt weaker than his heart and resolve. _I’m sorry, Arianne. I’ve failed you in this._

Along the way, Selywn and his men tried to offer aid to the civilians. They stopped any pillaging by the Westerlands army and killed men threatening the common folk. As they moved up Aegon’s Hill, Selwyn’s eyes narrowed at the massive amount of Westerlands officers standing outside and speaking passively.

On approach, several of the men turned to appraise the scowling lord who stood more than a head taller than most of them. Their brows arched and they stepped backwards to allow him passage. 

“Where is your lord!?” Selwyn barked at the men, but most only glanced among each other. _Cravens. They can frighten innocents, but they quake before a peer._

Eventually, a young redheaded man stepped forward. He looked not much older than a squire, but he seemed the bravest of the lot. “My lord, you’ll find Lord Tywin in the throne room attempting to restore order.”

With a huff, Selwyn shook his head and glared at the men. “Why don’t you make yourselves useful and help the people of the city. I saw civilians treated as though they were Gold Cloaks.”

One of the men snorted; his eyes drifting to his peers. “And who are you to order us about?”

“If your lord has it his way, your new king. Now go!” It took no further encouragement for the men to scramble down the path towards the city below. Selwyn stomped into the Keep with bile in his throat as he mind replayed the images from the city. 

When Selwyn came upon Lord Tywin, he wasted no time sharing his opinion of the West’s behavior. “Any of your men who harmed innocents are despicable creatures and should be thrown in a cell! You wish to see me on that throne with your sister at my side? Go put a leash on your dogs!”

“My men who committed those crimes are dead or dying. I gave no commands to destroy the city nor those in this Keep. Ser Gregor Clegane and his men are dead at the hands of my son and Ser Barristan.” Tywin’s tone was laced with disgust, but Selwyn questioned the sincerity. As a lord, Selwyn felt responsible for the behavior of his men. Should Tywin not feel the same?

“And this?” Selwyn pointed at Aerys' lifeless body and kept his eyes fixed on Tywin Lannister as the Lord of Casterly Rock stood among his senior officers dolling out orders. “Did your men do this too?”

Tywin’s head turned back quickly to appraise the dead king. “No. According to my men, that would be my son’s and Ser Barristan’s doing. They’re in the cells.” 

_What? By the Seven, what is going on!? Men sacking a city they’re meant to secure. Kingsguard killing their king?_

“Take me to them.” Selwyn stared at Tywin challengingly. 

With a nod of his head, Tywin bid his men guide Selwyn to the cells. As they walked through the Keep, Selwyn appraised the hallways. Dead bodies lined the hallway in each direction. As they descended the steps towards the cells, Selwyn strained to see in the darkness. The guards leading the way held torchlight before them; the flames danced wildly and cast shadows on the walls that stretched out before them. 

When they arrived at the cells, Selwyn ducked as he passed through the doorway. His eyes scanned the cells in each direction looking for two of Aerys’ famed Kingsguard. His gaze landed on two figures lying on their sides with their backs pressed against one another. Then a small head popped up beside one figure.

At Selwyn’s approach, one of the larger figures startled and leapt to his feet. A young knight who could be none other than Jaime Lannister stepped protectively before a child and a man who Selwyn would recognize anywhere. Barristan the Bold.

“Calm down boy. I’ll not harm your sworn brother and a child.” Selwyn kept his eyes fixed on the young knight who followed his movements closely. His thigh was bound with a makeshift tourniquet and his weight distributed to his uninjured leg. Mistrust danced in Jaime’s eyes, and Selwyn could hardly fault the boy. If his own bannermen did _that_ to the city, it was likely the young man believed Selwyn, an unknown, could be there to harm them.

Selwyn glared at the guard to his left. “Do you plan to stand there all night or are you going to open the bloody door?” 

The man stepped forward and unlocked the door. Selwyn stepped inside and noted Jaime’s posturing. His muscles tensed and his nostrils flared as he continued to stand before a child and Barristan. 

Selwyn appraised the cell. In one corner, Kingsguard armor was piled high. It struck Selwyn odd to see only one set. Turning towards his own men, Selwyn called out. “Ser Barlow. Get the Grand Maester. Ser Barristan needs treatment.”

The knight inclined his head and moved quickly from the cells. “Yes, my lord.”

The child stood and clutched at Jaime’s leg. “Is that the princess?”

Jaime’s hand reached back for the child’s head. “You’ll not take her. She stays with us.”

Selwyn put up his hands defensively and nodded. “Very well. I’ll ensure you’re given proper beds and care for the girl. She’ll stay with you..” Selwyn glanced at Barristan’s unconscious body before studying Jaime once more. _Gods he is young._ “You must be Ser Jaime Lannister. How old are you, boy?”

“Seven-and-ten.” The young knight’s voice was hesitant. He struck Selwyn as slow to trust. With a nod of understanding, Selwyn huffed a laugh. “A man barely grown.”

“I’ll be eight-and-ten in a few moon turns!” 

Selwyn bit back a laugh and feigned apology. “Oh, my mistake.” _Gods. Tywin did not lie about the truth behind his appointment._

Jaime’s chest heaved with rage and he straightened to full height. He was tall by most standards, but nowhere near Selwyn’s height. A muscular young man with short, blonde hair and piercing green eyes, Jaime’s jaw appeared as sharp as the famed Lannister tongue. Selywn had been given ample opinions of Lannisters of the years. His maternal grandmother, Rohanne Webber, never had pleasant things to say from her experience as a member of the House. While Selwyn himself never knew Rohanne, his mother remembered her fondly. His mother, Alysanne, knew House Lannister to be cunning, self-serving, and arrogant.

“Tell me why the pair of you killed your king.” At Selwyn’s question, the young knight’s resolve faltered. Something flashed in his eyes that betrayed just how young he was. Jaime swallowed thickly and looked down at Barristan while keeping his hand on Rhaenys head.

He shook his head and considered the question before glancing back at Selwyn. “Where is my father?”

A heavy sigh pushed past Selwyn’s lips as he walked closer and appraised the two Kingsguard. “Unfortunately for me, Tywin is likely planning my coronation upstairs. If you can think of a better solution to such madness, now would be the time.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “Who are you? Is Viserys alive?”

“I should hope he’s alive. He’s just a boy, and he certainly didn’t ask for any of this.” Selwyn muttered and glanced down at Barristan once more. The older knight was pale and his breathing shallow. “How long has he been like this?”

“Since they put us in here. I don’t know how long.” Jaime’s eyes followed Selwyn’s. His fist clenched and unclenched at his side.

Humming in reply, Selwyn lifted his gaze to Jaime once more. “I’m Lord Selwyn Tarth. In exchange for my daughter’s life, your father offered his army; albeit with certain _conditions_.” 

“You mean to say, ‘in exchange for your life’. Aerys called for your head.” The words sounded both a question and a correction. 

“I care little for my head’s placement. My daughter is an innocent though just like Princess Rhaenys there.” Selwyn shrugged and glanced back at the group standing outside the cell. “Oh by the gods would you leave us!”

“My lord, he… he killed his king.” One of Tywin’s men stared at his lord’s heir with unease in his eyes. 

“Well perhaps he’ll do me the same honor! Look at the shit your bloody bannermen left me to clean up. Go make yourselves useful upstairs.”

The men scampered from the space, but Selwyn’s men lingered. ‘My lord…”

“I said go.” Selwyn didn’t look back to confirm his guards’ retreat. They were well-trained and dutiful. When their footsteps grew distant, Selwyn glanced up and saw Jaime eyeing him. 

“You don’t even know why we’re in here.” A challenge. 

Selwyn smiled and spoke with indifference coating his words. “I do believe it was stated several times over. You killed your king. I gave you my name, now you give me your reason. It isn’t often a member of the Kingsguard kills the very man he is sworn to protect.”

The young knight paled slightly. HIs jaw slackened and he glanced back at Barristan. “I don’t have reason to trust you with the information. I’m to guard my king’s secrets.”

“The king you killed?”

“The king I serve. You said Prince Viserys is still alive. I do believe that would make him my king.” Something in the knight’s tone told Selwyn that was _not_ what he hoped to see happen.

_Stubborn. Perhaps he belongs in the Stormlands more than the West._

“Very well. Let me tell you what is to happen. Your father claimed the throne in my name, and I’m to wed your aunt, Genna Lannister. He wishes to see you released from the Kingsguard and turned over to his care.”

“No!” There was panic in Jaime’s tone as he spoke. “I’m a Kingsguard. I serve for life.” 

Raising a brow, Selwyn spoke challengingly. “But I am not your king, so how could you serve?”

The young knight’s face fell at the words and he looked to the ground. Without meeting Selwyn’s eyes, he spoke in hushed tones. “Wildfire. Aerys has it placed through the city tunnels and he ordered it lit. He meant to burn everyone and everything.”

Selwyn sucked in a sharp breath at the words. _Gods. He saved us all. Over half a million people._

Jaime looked up defiantly; his chin raised high. “I’ll take my death, but Ser Barristan kept his Kingsguard vows. It wasn’t him. Let him live.”

_This boy might be the only good decision that Aerys made in years. He’s the best of them._

“You kept your vows as a knight. That is more important than vows to a madman, and you’ll not be harmed under my watch. We’ll keep this between us. I’ll not have anyone finding out about the substance’s presence until it can be safely removed.” Selwyn crouched before Barristan and felt his neck for a pulse. It was faint, but there. 

“How did this happen?”

Jaime knelt at Barristan’s back and studied his sworn brother. “He was sent back from the field with enough wounds to kill multiple men. I do believe your archer’s were part of that effort. He was abed when my father attacked the city. I begged Aerys to surrender when he let them in.”

_Gods dammit. How hard is it to distinguish a Targaryen prince from Barristan the Bold! My gods damned archers._

The young knight looked haunted as he spoke. He glanced away and took a pained breath before continuing. “I… Ser Barristan found me in the throne room after I killed the pyromancer and the king. Then he took me to Maegor’s Holdfast to guard the royal family, but… my father’s men got to them first. Ser Gregor and his gods damned dogs. They…” Jaime glanced back at Rhaenys and paused. His next words were whispered for Selwyn’s ears alone. “Gregor and his men butchered them all. Ser Barristan killed near twenty men himself in a fit of rage. I tried to stop it, but… one got to his side. As it was, he was unfit to fight.”

Selwyn sighed and retracted his hand. “They’re all dead you say? You’re _certain_ there are no more? I’ll see the rest fall into the Stranger’s arms if you pick out any more of them.”

With deadly confidence, Jaime met Selwyn’s eyes. “Dead to the last one. Ser Barristan made certain of it.”

“Good. What of your other sworn brothers?” Selwyn glanced back towards the cell door and wondered what was taking so long for the maester to arrive. 

“Ser Jonothor is at Dragonstone guarding Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys. We heard that Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, and Prince Lewyn died fighting, but I’ve not heard of Ser Arthur.”

Selwyn dragged a hand down his face. “Such a waste. We’ll get Ser Barristan back to his room once the Grand Maester treats him.”

“I don’t want to be released.” Jaime’s tone had a desperate edge that startled Selwyn. 

Lifting his eyes to Jaime, Selwyn nodded. “I’d be a fool to let you go if you don’t wish to leave. Most men twice your age could not make such a brave decision as you did today. You did well.”

The words caught the young knight by surprise and he glanced away quickly. Either he was unaccustomed to praise, or he had a hidden truth that would sully the compliment. “I killed my king. You’re meant to take my head. I failed.”

Selwyn snorted. “And you saved the city in the process. You saved Princess Rhaenys. You don’t deserve punishment. You deserve reward.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed in consideration. He seemed to mull something over and he glanced at Barristan. “Ser Barristan acted too. He didn’t fail.” 

Selwyn hummed at the words. _Protective and honorable. He very well might be the best of them._

Soon enough, the Grand Maester shuffled into the cell with medicines in hand and supplies to stitch a wound if necessary. He tsked and hummed as he worked. 

“He was in no condition to be fighting as it was. I told him to stay abed.”

_Yes, I’m certain Barristan the Bold would have lounged about while the city was attacked._

Not long after, someone else entered the cells and Selwyn saw Jaime’s defensive posture return. Glancing over his shoulder, Selwyn observed the frame of Tywin Lannister outlined in torchlight. 

“Are you ready to talk now, Jaime?”

Selwyn had very little patience for a man claiming no responsibility over his men’s behavior, but it spoke volumes that Tywin’s own son seemed tense around him. 

_Tywin has my daughter in his home. Now is certainly not the time for me to wage war with him._ “These men saved the city and prevented your monsters from harming Princess Rhaenys. They need only to rest and recover.”

The words were a dismissal and not meant for debate. Fortunately, Tywin read it as such. With a scathing glance at Jaime, Tywin moved slowly from the room. “We’ll speak after you _rest_ , Jaime.”

Once Barristan was treated, Selwyn called for his guards to carry the Kingsguard to the White Sword Tower. Selwyn crouched down to reach eye level with Prince Rhaenys. “You look to be about four, is that correct?”

The young girl nodded slowly, but continued to clutch Jaime’s leg. “Is Ser Jaime your friend? You feel happy staying with him?”

“Yes.” It was the first word the young girl said all night. 

Selwyn hummed in reply and smiled. “Do you know that I have a daughter your age. I hope she’ll be here soon, and perhaps the two of you can play together. I’m very sorry that so many scary things happened tonight, but you were very brave. Do you want to stay with your friend here and Ser Barristan? If you want to sleep in your room, I’ll stand guard myself if you like.”

The young girl seemed to consider the words. She tapped Jaime’s leg and spoke quietly. “I wanna stay with Ser Jaime.”

“I understand. He’s an excellent protector. You’ll be just fine with him.” Selwyn smiled and he watched as Rhaenys’ eyes moved slowly towards the area where the men had lifted an unconscious Barristan. There was a pool of blood on the ground that made her eyes mist.

“He’s hurt.”

Selwyn didn’t wish to lie to her, but he also didn’t want to frighten her. “Yes, he fought hard to keep you safe tonight. He’s very tired now, and the maester will take care of him. We’ll make certain of it.”

“I want mommy.” 

The words were like a knife to the heart. A pair of sapphire eyes flashed in Selwyn’s mind. He was taken back to the many nights when similar words left Brienne’s lips.

Selwyn never knew what to say to his own daughter, and he struggled just as much now. The scars were yet healed on his own heart, and Rhaenys’ words felt like a scab being torn off too early. 

The teary, innocent eyes of the young girl before him were heartbreaking. In one night, the young girl lost her mother and brother. A fortnight ago, she lost her father. “I understand, sweetling.”

Jaime reached down and scooped Rhaenys up into his arms. “How about the dragon story you like? I’ll tell it in the room?”

Rhaenys mumbled her agreement as she cried quietly the entire way to the White Sword Tower. As they walked Selwyn asked for more details. “Are there other pyromancers?”

“Yes, I’ve their names and I know their faces.” Jaime held the young girl close in his arms as they walked. There was something in the young knight’s eyes that spoke to experiences well beyond any befitting a boy of seven-and-ten. 

“Is there anyone else here that you mistrust?” Selwyn glanced ahead as his men carried Barristan down the hallway and towards their destination. 

Jaime’s eyes darted to Selwyn and he gave a small nod. “At present… anyone not Ser Barristan.”

* * *

The next week passed in a blur. The kingdoms were pleased at Aerys' death, though Selwyn kept the circumstances vague until the wildfire could be disposed of. With Selywn’s claim to the crown by conquest _and_ blood, most of the kingdoms were pleased to see House Tarth replace Aerys’ line. 

Despite not wanting power, Selwyn would honor the agreement made to save his daughter’s life. After everything that happened in the city, Selwyn did not trust Tywin Lannister with control of the kingdoms, and the rebelling armies lacked a willing and capable man to rule. 

House Martell raged at the loss of Prince Lewyn, Princess Elia, and Prince Aegon. The only comfort they took was in the knowledge that Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime not only killed Ser Gregory and his men, but they also saved Princess Rhaenys. 

After Selwyn had his men bring Barristan to the White Sword Tower, and Jaime carried the young princess there, and all three stayed in Barristan’s room. Jaime had dragged his bed inside for Rhaenys to sleep on, and he curled up on a bedroll. 

Throughout the week, Selwyn visited and tried to ensure the young girl was well, but she cried for her mother and clung to the Kingsguard. He was not surprised when by the third day, Barristan’s own mattress was placed on the ground beside Jaime’s, and the princess lay wedged between her two protectors. 

Selwyn remained leery of Tywin’s involvement in the West’s action, but there no one refuted his word, and those with greater knowledge were dead. As such, Selwyn did not feel in a position to argue with a powerful House still in possession of his daughter.

With no proof to the contrary and a debt owed to House Lannister, Selwyn felt capable of doing little more than keeping Tywin at an arm’s length. Selwyn had the bodies of House Martell’s royal family prepared as best they could to afford respect and solemnity. He joined the family in mourning and offered a seat on his small council to ensure Dorne was afforded voice in all matters pertaining to the realm. Arrangements were made with House Martell for an escort to take the princess to Sunspear. The family was eager to have her returned to Dorne where they could begin the grieving process, and take over her care. In the meantime, they were grateful for the two Kingsguard taking care of their last connection to Elia. Further, they were pleased that Gregor’s and Amory’s heads were on spikes as a warning to anyone in the realm. No one would touch what remained of Aerys’ line.

A dispatch was sent to Dragonstone to ensure the safety of Aerys’ last surviving children. Selwyn wished to find a viable solution for the parentless children. The children were second cousins to Selwyn and could be raised under his care alongside Brienne at the Red Keep, but the council advised against it. The people did not want to risk Viserys finding his way into power. In the eyes of the kingdoms, Aerys' line was best left behind, and many at court already noticed early signs of madness in the young boy. 

Still, Selwyn fretted over what to do with them. _Wards perhaps._

Ser Barristan was recovering in the White Sword Tower under the Grand Maester’s care and Jaime’s watchful eye. Were it not for Jaime to talk Barristan down and the need to guard Rhaenys, Selwyn mused that the recovering knight might ride West and kill every last soldier under Tywin’s command. 

Just over a week after the sack of King’s Landing, Ser Arthur returned with what remained of the crown’s forces. With rumors swirling of what happened in the city, Arthur found out from the commonfolk of his sister’s fate. It was cruel and the anguish on Arthur’s face was apparent as he hobbled into the Red Keep. The renowned knight offered no greeting other than to demand access to his sworn brothers. 

“Where are my sworn brothers!? By the gods if any harm has befallen them…”

Selwyn had only sighed and put up a defensive hand. “I do believe you know the way to the White Sword Tower.”

_Gods, these Kingsguard are not to be trifled with. One single handedly took on a portion of Tywin’s bloody army. One prevented the city from blowing up. One orders me about as though I’m an attendant obstructing his path._

Selwyn watched as the three emotionally and physically defeated Kingsguard sat at the edge of the yards after hobbling outside with Rhaenys at their heels. Until Arthur returned, Barristan and Jaime did not leave the White Sword Tower. In fairness, the situation was unprecedented. 

For nearly 300 years, House Targaryen ruled over the Seven Kingdoms, which meant that in nearly 300 years the Kingsguard were never put in _this_ situation. The sworn brothers looked like men drowning. Their Lord Commander was dead, and the family they vowed to serve decimated. Ser Jon was set to arrive on the morrow with what remained of the royal family, and Selwyn wasn’t certain what to do with _any_ of them.

Selwyn stood near the castle entrance listening to his guards give updates from the city below. He had dispatched his own men to help the people rebuild and recover. As his guards prattled on, Selwyn’s head tilted in consideration of the Kingsguard. Whatever they were discussing did not appear pleasant. 

Rhaenys was playing in the field just several feet from them as the men spoke. Arthur raged and cussed; the words did not reach Selwyn’s ears, but he didn’t need to be closer to know the words on Arthur’s lips. Then things calmed and their demeanour shifted. Whatever Barristan and Jaime told Arthur stopped his frenzied pacing and cursing. He crouched before Jaime and placed a hand on the young knight’s shoulder. 

_They must be discussing the wildfire and Aerys._

The older knights seemed to be granting some validation to Jaime. Soon, all three sat shoulder to shoulder and watched Rhaenys play just before them. Selwyn considered how fortunate he would be if they stayed on as Kingsguard. He wanted men of that caliber guarding his own daughter. He wanted knights of that caliber guarding the realm. 

There were things that Selwyn did not agree with surrounding the Kingsguard. He was in a unique position to have ample opinions given his relation to Ser Duncan. Selwyn was four-and-ten when the tragedy at Summerhall happened. He saw his grandfather often enough even after Duncan took the white cloak in 236ac, but the infamous knight and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had been at war with his vows.

Selwyn’s maternal grandparents had a complicated relationship. They had met and fallen in love many years before finally being together. Rohanne had six husbands in total; four before the age of twenty. Most had died under tragic or unexpected circumstances, but despite it, she was known as the Red Widow. 

Her sixth husband was Lord Gerold Lannister. In total, she gave him four children including Lord Tytos. After the youngest, Jason, was born in 229ac, Rohanne disappeared in 230ac. Most assumed her dead, but in truth, she moved to Tarth at the behest of Duncan. The two had an affair after she recovered from the birthing bed. 

Aegon’s sister, Daella Targaryen, had married Lord Galladon Tarth and the pair welcomed their only child, three years prior; a boy named Endrew. They offered Rohanne protection on the island, as they knew House Lannister would kill her if she had been found unfaithful to Gerold. In 230ac, Rohanne birthed Alysanne Storm. 

By all accounts, Selwyn’s complexion and facial features took after Rohanne. The Tarth lord had freckled skin, a dimpled chin, and Rohanne’s nose. According to Selwyn’s mother, Rohanne loved archery and took to Tarth instantly given the island’s expertise with the weapon. Her long braid was always bound up tightly, and she enjoyed putting on a proper show before the knights of the island. For six years, Duncan spent much of his time on Tarth. When Aegon took the throne in 233ac, the new king wanted Duncan on his Kingsguard, but Duncan didn’t want to leave Rohanne.

The Kingsguard vows forbid wives and children, and while Duncan happily served King Aegon, he did not formally join the order until Rohanne’s death in 236ac. Aegon made an allowance for Duncan to visit his child, and Daella committed to raising Alysanne as though her own babe.

Endrew and Alyssanne were raised at Evenfall together and fell in love. They birthed Selwyn in 245ac, much to the dismay of Endrew’s parents. They felt the couple too young, and that they were unwed was problematic. Still, Aegon legitimized Selwyn as a Tarth, and the young couple wed in 246ac. Everytime Ser Duncan visited, the renowned knight despaired that he couldn’t bring his grandson with him to court. 

_“I wish I could take you to visit your kin, but as a Kingsguard, I have vows. My life belongs to the realm now.”_

Selwyn hated it. He couldn’t understand why the two couldn’t coexist. Then tragedy struck in 259ac. King Aegon called a summit with all his children to discuss matters relating to the crown. Endrew, Galladon, and Daella attended, leaving Selwyn with his mother on Tarth. Alysanne was six moons pregnant at the time. 

After having Selwyn in 245ac, the young couple had struggled to conceive again. Alysanne suffered multiple miscarriages including a greatly disfigured babe that almost appeared to have scales of some sort. Daella had despaired and blamed her line for the losses and disfigurements. She claimed that House Targaryen had suffered through similar experiences; her sister among them.

Then in 259ac, Endrew returned home alone. He shared what had happened at Summerhall, but the details were confusing. The one thing he was adamant about was King Aegon’s intention at the summit. Prince Duncan and Jenny were pregnant with their first babe. The king had signed an order reinstating Prince Duncan’s inheritance as next in line; effectively removing Jaehaerys from his path to the throne. 

According to Selwyn’s father, Aerys had raged. It was Endrew’s belief that the fire was started by Aerys. When Jaehaerys came into power, Endrew was sent to the Wall. Not long after he left, Alysanne birthed their babe, but she died on the birthing bed. The babe, a girl named Brienne, was a sickly child. At only five-and-ten, Selwyn came into power on Tarth. He had to take on the role of father to his newborn sister, and he was overwhelmed. 

Brienne was a sweet child, but frail. She lived to her fourth name day until she died in her sleep. For some time, Selwyn refused to consider matches. He feared that he was cursed; all his family except his father were dead. The pain of losing all his kin in such a close period of time left a deep scar across his heart. Love found Selwyn despite his effort to avoid it. In 275ac, Selwyn wed Arianne Penrose; cousin to Ser Cortnay Penrose.

Lost in his memories, Selwyn felt a presence at his side. “Your Grace.” _Oh gods. Not that title already._

Turning to his side, Selwyn raised a brow at Varys. The Spider bowed his head; his hands forever tucked into his robes. “Lord Stark has sent a reply from his recovery bed. He will meet with you as requested.”


	9. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and his sworn brothers consider what to do. Selwyn begins to establish order and a council. The escort from the West arrives.

Jaime sat between his sworn brothers staring across the desk at Selwyn Tarth. Arthur had returned that morning to King’s Landing, and the sworn brother sat together in the yards for some time. For the first time in Jaime’s life, he felt as though he belonged. His sworn brothers not only accepted him, but applauded his actions during the war. When Aerys died by Jaime’s and Barristan’s swords, Jaime expected to die. He broke his vows and killed his king.

Instead, Jaime was revered. While Selwyn wished to keep quiet about the wildfire until it was removed, Selwyn made it clear that Jaime’s heroics saved the city; that he and Barristan took care of the threats. It was both surprising yet not that Tywin never asked Jaime _why_ he killed Aerys. Selwyn and Jaime’s sworn brothers had been the only ones to ask. They were the only ones who seemed to care.

There were some peculiar looks cast at Jaime and Barristan, but not one approached them or said anything in opposition to Selwyn's account of the events. When they sat in the yards earlier, the men debated what they were meant to do. 

Would their vows require them to protect Viserys as next male heir even though the young boy already seemed more Aerys than Rhaella? Would their vows see them serve whoever was king, regardless of how the crown was claimed? Would their vows see them bow out gracefully in failure to protect their first sworn king?

Both Jaime and Arthur had looked to Barristan for guidance. In absence of the White Bull, Barristan was the next best thing. He had been a knight most of his life, and Barristan had served in the Kingsguard for over twenty years. At almost seven-and-forty, Barritsan seemed more a father figure than brother.

Jaime’s greatest concern was honoring his vow to keep the royal family safe. With Rhaenys under Selwyn’s protection, and the same man’s commitment to ensuring the safety of Viserys and Daenerys, Jaime felt good about the man. He would make a much better king than Viserys ever could, and Rhaenys was far too young to rule. 

Barristan had voiced his thoughts as they watched Rhaenys play. _“I know House Tarth. They’re good, honorable people. He would not ask dishonorable things of us as Aerys did. Keeping vows to him would be easy in comparison. In truth, he could have killed us by now but he has treated and sheltered us instead. He has kept Princess Rhaenys safe, and he said that he’ll keep Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys safe.”_

Jaime was inclined to agree. When Selwyn spoke to Jaime in the cells, Jaime felt the man trustworthy. Selwyn seemed genuine, and he did not strike Jaime as someone who lusted for power. If anything, he seemed dismayed at taking the crown, but it was clear that Selwyn committed to doing so in order to prevent dishonorable men like Tywin from claiming it.

As to his own status in the Kingsguard, Jaime was petrified of being released. Tywin would try to marry Jaime off, and very likely to Lysa Tully. The woman was still available and dull as ever. Until Jaime could speak with Cersei, he did not wish to be released from his vows. 

In truth, Jaime hoped that Jon Arryn would die soon, and Cersei would be free once more. With Selwyn on the throne, and given his lineage to House Targaryen, Jaime wondered if the new king might allow for a marriage between siblings as his Targaryen ancestors often wed brother to sister. Of course, Tywin would rage, but all Jaime wanted was Cersei. She consumed his every thought, and without her, he felt lost. Only when guided by his sworn brothers did Jaime feel he had purpose and acceptance.

_If I can’t have Cersei, I’ll have no one. My life will be to serve if not given in service to Cersei._

It hadn’t always been like that for Jaime. He knew his role as heir and understood the expectation to wed and have heirs of his own. Then Cersei came to him at Eel Alley and made Jaime forget those dreams and expectations. His heart belonged to Cersei, and he committed to never giving himself to a woman who he didn’t love. 

Now as Jaime sat between his sworn brothers, Selwyn appraised them and spoke earnestly. “I’d be a fool for not asking the three of you to stay on as Kingsguard. You’re the greatest among the living knights in these Seven Kingdoms. You would honor me by remaining here. The same offer of course will be extended to Ser Jonothor on the morrow.”

Jaime glanced at Barristan and watched the older knight take a deep breath. “I believe we would all stay and honor our vows to serve the crown.”

Both Jaime and Arthur nodded in affirmation of Barristan’s words. The soon-to-be coronated king smiled broadly. “Well I daresay that I’ll be untouchable under your watch… so long as I don’t go mad. If I do, aim true.” 

With a small nod of approval at Jaime, Selwyn leaned back and scratched his head. “Though… there is the matter of Lord Tywin. I promised him that I would release you, and...”

“You offered.” Jaime cut off his new king. “I’ll inform him of my decision. Kingsguard serve for life.” _Or at least that is what I hope Tywin to accept for now._

Selwyn sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Be that as it may, my offer stands. You were quite young when you took the white cloak. Too young perhaps to understand the consequences of your decision. A boy of five-and-ten and heir to a Great House can’t possibly consider the long term implications.”

Jaime straightened in his chair. “I have a younger brother. He can have the Rock.”

Another lie. Jaime knew that Tywin would never allow Tyrion to inherit the Rock. Tywin had an overwhelming distaste for all things he deemed imperfect. No matter what Tyrion accomplished in life, he would always be made to feel unworthy. 

Selwyn tilted his head. “Ser Jaime, I can appreciate your stance on the matter at this time, but as it stands, you were quite young to take such vows.”

“Ser Barristan swore his vows at three-and-twenty. Ser Arthur was twenty. I believe Ser Gerold had been younger than that...” Jaime tried rattling off the slew of facts in his defense, but Selwyn would have none of it.

“And you swore your vows at _five-and-ten_ . By the laws of our kingdoms, you were not even a man grown. The four of us know _why_ Aerys appointed you. While it may have turned out that you were destined for greatness, I don’t want the Kingsguard ever used for such a purpose again. You have been a prisoner here. Furthermore, I wish to change the vows.”

Barristan straightened beside Jaime; his voice thick with worry. “What do you intend to change? The vows of the Kingsguard have never been changed since the order’s inception.” 

“I intend to allow for wives, lovers, and children. I’ll also grant leave as requested by members of the Kingsguard. For example, if Ser Jaime needs to take up his place as heir at any point, he can request leave.”

All three began to argue, but Selwyn raised a hand. “I want the best serving in this prestigious order. If it can be used as a way to punish, then it becomes undesirable for all. If you prefer to honor your old vows, that is of your choosing.”

“But the point of those vows as they are is to ensure what is best for the crown. Our very lives are dedicated to serving you, and only you. No distractions.” Barristan was adamant, but his insistence did little to move Selwyn.

“My grandfather hated the vows. They kept him from me and his daughter. He took his vows in grief when his lover died.” Selwyn huffed and glanced out the window. A shadow passed over his features as memories seemed to play out before his eyes.

Jaime glanced questioningly at his sworn brothers. _His grandfather?_ At Jaime’s left, Arthur gave voice to the very question dancing on Jaime’s tongue.

“You had a grandfather in the Kingsguard? Who?” The Sword of the Morning leaned forward and tilted his head as though awaiting a whispered reply.

Selwyn extended his arms and glanced down at himself. His words were laced with sarcasm. “You might not believe it based on my small stature, but I’m Ser Duncan’s grandson on my maternal side.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “You’re… you’re related to Ser Duncan? As in… _the_ Ser Duncan. The tall one?”

He knew the question was absurd, but his brain was struggling to digest the level of greatness he was surrounded by. To his left and right sat the greatest living knights; Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. Before him sat the grandson of Duncan the Tall. Muffled snickering at each of his sides confirmed Jaime’s own acknowledgement at his question’s absurdity. 

“No… the small one.” Selwyn bit back a laugh as he replied sarcastically. “Of course, Ser Duncan the Tall. We share kin, boy. How do you suppose I know all about your _delightful_ House? Your father and I are cousins… well… _half cousins_ , I suppose.” 

_This is so very strange. What is he on about?_ “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Selwyn only chuckled and shook his head. “No, I truly don’t think you do give your kin _assumed_ that your great-grandmother died. Lady Rohanne couldn’t very well announce that she fled to Tarth with her lover, Ser Duncan. I’m certain you could imagine the fallout for a noblewoman choosing love over duty.” 

The information was strange, but Jaime considered it typical that his House would elect to declare someone dead rather than disloyal. Still, it seemed peculiar and Jaime struggled to accept it as truth. Across the desk, Selwyn sighed and scratched at his chin. 

“The vows though… they need changing. Ser Barristan, if you disagree with my opinion on the matter, help me find a middleground. I would ask that you become Lord Commander of my Kingsguard.” 

A smile stretched across Jaime’s face at Selwyn’s choice. He couldn’t have asked for a better Lord Commander in Ser Barristan. As much as Jaime admired and respected the White Bull, he always thought Ser Barristan superior in both skill and character. 

Barristan nodded in thanks and smiled. “You honor me, but in truth, any of my sworn brothers would make a fine Lord Commander. Well… perhaps not Ser Jon.”

Arthur snorted loudly at the words; his head nodding emphatically. It was one of many inside japes based on knowledge yet acquired by Jaime. While Barristan and Arthur had recently come to accept him, Jaime had very much felt like an outsider for much of his time in King’s Landing, and he certainly didn’t know Ser Jon as well as Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. He hoped the shift in their regard for him would persist when new brothers were named. 

* * *

Over the next three weeks, Barristan worked to fill the openings on the Kingsguard. Positions were extended to and accepted by Ser Brynden Tully and Ser Lyn Corbray. When word arrived that the Blackfish had accepted, Jaime thought he might well die from excitement. All his childhood idols would be in one tower, and Jaime was beginning to think he did perish in wildfire during the siege. 

The final position was proving rather difficult to place as most knights did not want to forgo a family, or leave their family to serve. Selwyn only smirked during meetings with the Kingsguard, which he insisted upon attending.

_“Say the word, Ser Barristan. We’ll change those vows.”_

Barristan and Selwyn were both of the Stormlands, which made for an unreasonable amount of stubbornness. It was endlessly amusing to Jaime, until he realized that one less Kingsguard meant more time on duty. The only other man, though also young, willing to join and cast aside an opportunity with a wife and children was Benjen Stark. 

The youngest Stark brother was of age to Jaime, but he was quickly ruled out when he was named Castellan at Winterfell. Selwyn surprised everyone by naming Ned Stark as his Hand. The young lord and his growing family would take residence in the Red Keep. Lady Catelyn Stark had delivered their first babe, a boy named Robb, during the war. The family would soon journey to the Red Keep for Selwyn’s looming coronation. All Great Houses would be in the city, which excited Jaime as it meant that Cersei would soon arrive.

In speaking with Ned, Selwyn decided it appropriate to formally recognize the marriage between Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon. While Aerys thought to have destroyed the last of House Baratheon, he missed the babe in Lyanna’s womb. Lyanna had delivered a girl who she named Lyarra in honor of her mother. Lyarra Baratheon would rule at Storm’s End, but on account of her age, Lyanna would rule until her daughter came of age. 

Given Lyanna’s lack of familiarity with the Stormlands, Selwyn offered to host her at the Red Keep for the indefinite future. Together, they appointed Ser Cortnay as Castellan who Selwyn trusted implicitly. With Selwyn as her mentor, Lyanna would learn the ways of the Stormlands and ensure a strong future for her son.

Selwyn also announced the rest of his small council. Varys would remain on as Master of Whisperers and Grand Maester Pycelle was still assigned to serve by the Citadel. As promised, a position was awarded to Dorne. Selwyn named Prince Oberyn Martell as Master of War. Lord Paxter Redwyne was named Master of Ships given his House’s reputation as the finest naval fleet in the Seven Kingdoms. Lastly, Lady Olenna Tyrell was named as Master of Laws. 

Jaime snickered at the appointment. Lady Olenna’s reputation preceded her, and Selwyn would certainly never lack for opinions from the Queen of Thorns. When Jaime commented as much to Selwyn, the older lord only raised a brow. 

_“I may not be your father, but I understand politics. The Reach is a powerful ally, and anyone with half a bit of sense knows that Lady Olenna is the driving force behind their strength.”_

As to Master of Coin, Tywin wanted a seat at the table. He was observant and noted how diverse the small council and Kingsguard was. Nearly all kingdoms had representation, and he wanted in; particularly after Jaime’s refusal to leave the Kingsguard.

Jaime had been quick to affirm Selwyn’s suspicions. _“House Lannister does well managing coin, but my father has siblings. If you’re going to wed my aunt, you might as well give her the position. She is to the West what Lady Olenna is to the Reach. Unlike my father, she is trustworthy.”_

Now as Jaime sat around the table with his sworn brothers during their morning meeting, the topic of vows came up once more. Arthur shrugged with indifference when Selwyn once more suggested allowance for spouses and children.

“We all know Prince Lewyn maintained his paramour. We kept his secret as we kept our king’s secrets. Did it really matter in the end? He fought for Prince Rhaegar until his last breath. He did his duty as a knight and Kingsguard.”

Selwyn raised his cup of wine to Arthur and nodded. “There’s the spirit, Ser Arthur.”

Barristan huffed and shook his head. “He didn’t have children running about the White Sword Tower as a distraction though, did he? He didn’t have to choose between protecting his king and protecting his lover when the Keep was invaded, did he?”

A shadow passed over Arthur’s face and he spoke quietly as though haunted. “Would public acknowledgement of one’s love change a decision to act? I do believe a certain _someone_ would have run to my sister if given the choice.”

Arthur let the implication hang between him and Barristan. The atmosphere grew tense as something unspoken passed between the two knights. Jaime wanted to slide under the table and wait until the matter was decided upon. 

At times, he felt like the mediator between Barristan and Arthur. They often disagreed on topics pertaining to the Kingsguard, but Arthur respected Barristan immensely and never questioned his command in front of their other brothers. Only Jaime was granted audience into their disagreements. 

_I wanted to be included, but not quite like this._

Jaime’s eyes darted to his newest sworn brothers. The Blackfish seemed to care little for the outcome of the conversation. He had long ago given up pursuit of a match, and instead wished only to perfect his craft as a knight. Ser Lyn was known to take male lovers, and as such, he was unmoved by the discussion to allow marriage and children. 

“Do I get a vote?” Ser Jon asked teasingly from Barristan’s side as the newly appointed Lord Commander and Arthur continued their staredown. 

“No, you do not get a _vote._ ” Barristan’s tone brokered no argument. With a deep sigh, Barristan lowered his head and shrugged. “Do as you please. Our king seems rather set on it. I’ll honor my vows _as they were_.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the concession. Arthur clapped loudly and reached for Selwyn’s cup of wine. Of course, Selwyn was the only one drinking at such an ungodsly hour. It had not gone unnoticed to the brothers how Selwyn enjoyed indulging around the clock. He never allowed himself to the point of drunkenness, but it seemed a thinly veiled attempt at dulling some unspoken pain. Jaime supposed it was the loss of his wife and children that haunted him.

With a wide smile, Arthur held the cup high and glanced around the table. “My brothers… let us take a moment to appreciate that we will no longer need to polish our swords alone _if we so choose_.” Jaime bit back a laugh at Arthur’s crass words, but when he glanced back at Barristan, he could see the dismay on the knight’s face. 

One thing that Jaime learned early on about Barristan was how traditional he was. Jaime considered that Barristan was likely the only Kingsguard in its history to maintain the _implied_ vow of chastity. 

Jaime was pleased that there was now a path for him to marry Cersei if he could convince Selwyn to allow such a union, for _surely_ the faith would not. The only downside would be his father hearing of this change in vows and trying to force a match.

“Perhaps we can take the new vows in private rather than before all of court.” At Jaime’s suggestion, the mirth faded and Arthur raised a brow. 

“Why? We’ve always spoken our oaths before court.”

Thinking quickly, Jaime played at compromise. “To Ser Barristan’s point, if it becomes widespread knowledge that the Kingsguard can wed and have children, it truly could cause a distraction. We’re to guard the king; not spend time courting noblewomen. This would allow us to be in control of such personal affairs without meddling from our kin or court.”

Ser Jon laughed loudly from across the table. “Gods, Jaime! Lysa must have been fucking awful! She’s ruined you.” Jon’s mirth faded as his eyes drifted to Brynden. “No offense meant of course. I’m certain she’s… wonderful.”

The Blackfish merely huffed at the words. “Perhaps Ser Jaime, if you spent more time in your assigned seat beside my niece, and less time asking for bedtime stories from me, you’d feel differently about my Lysa.”

Jaime raised his brow at Brynden and spoke sarcastically. “Those were suppertime stories, thank you. Are you offering bedtime stories, though?”

It felt like Jaime had won a tourney when Brynden Tully, _the_ Brynden Tully, chuckled at the words. Jaime considered that even if Selwyn denied Jaime a legal marriage to Cersei, he could at least be happy serving among a group of renowned knights. Now he was a peer; a peer they respected and praised. 

Standing from his chair, Selwyn grunted and rubbed at his knees. “I best leave you men to it. The escort from Casterly Rock arrives with my daughter today.”

“And your betrothed!” Arthur elbowed Jaime and called out after Selwyn. “Your soon-to-be goodnephew can’t wait.” 

_Gods. I don’t know who I feel worse for. Genna or Selwyn._

Walking towards the door, Selwyn called back. “Oh and Ser Barristan. Lord Arryn has agreed to take Lord Viserys on as ward. When he departs for the Vale following the coronation, you’ll have order restored to this tower. I hear that children can be a _distraction_.”

Barristan forced a smile at the words. “And Lord Arryn is _aware_ of the young lord’s personality?”

A week prior, House Martell had agreed to take on Daenerys as a ward. They wanted to ensure any signs of Aerys were encouraged out of the young girl, and they also indicated that if she and Prince Quentyn grew fond of one another, they could make a match.

Selwyn sighed and nodded at the question. “That he is. Like House Martell, I believe Lord Arryn hopes that under the propre influence, all things Aerys will have died with the mad king. If not, let him come for us. We have Ser Jaime.”

And just like that, the only thing greater than the Blackfish laughing at Jaime’s jape, was the Blackfish patting him on the back and humming in approval. 

* * *

The carriage pulled into the courtyard around midday. The Kingsguard surrounded Selwyn as he prepared to be reunited with his daughter. Standing to Jaime’s left, Tywin stood tall and rigid. He had not gotten his way where it concerned Jaime’s dismissal, which meant he would have little tolerance for Genna not putting on a grand show of meeting Selwyn.

In typical Lannister fashion, the lion sigil flapped proudly in the wind as a formally-dressed escort of twenty knights led the horse-drawn carriage into the courtyard. The sight provoked a snort from Jaime. 

_Gods. Genna will bathe the Keep in crimson and gold. I can already envision her distaste for the Targaryen decor._

When the carriage came to a stop, one of the men set out the steps as the carriage door swung open. Genna was just as Jaime remembered her. Her long blonde braid reached halfway down her back and her sharp green eyes scanned the courtyard. Her dress was pure Lannister. A deep crimson velvet clung tightly to her curvaceous body. Ornate golden stitching made her look more queen than widow to a vassal from the Riverlands. 

As Genna stepped down, she turned around and reached inside for someone. A young girl with a matching braid was pulled into Genna’s arms. The child was in a nearly identical dress, and it took everything in Jaime not to guffaw. _  
_

_This poor child. What has Genna done to her?_

“By the Seven… what is she wearing?” Selwyn’s voice was but a whisper from where he stood.

The young girl called back for someone; a wide smile on her face. “Come on, Tyry!” _Tyry?_

Genna carried the young girl on her hip as Tyrion came rushing out from the carriage. A wide smile spread across Jaime’s face at the sight of his little brother, but Tywin did not share in Jaime’s mirth. He muttered under his breath; his tone thick with agitation. “Gods dammit.”

Jaime glared at his father. It bothered Jaime that Tywin always tried to hide Tyrion as though a stain on their House. That Tyrion joined Genna’s escort was likely considered a show of weakness in Tywin’s eyes. 

The young girl squirmed in Genna’s arms when she saw her father. Genna set her down and smiled as the child sprinted to her father. “Daddy!”

It was a break from protocol that Tywin demanded of his children, and Jaime quite enjoyed the sight of Tywin’s horrified expression. As Selwyn stepped forward and embraced the young girl, she began speaking rapidly of her adventures with ‘Lady Genna and Tyry’. 

Selwyn tried to take it all in, but the young girl was soon pointing back at Tyrion excitedly. With a wide smile and bow, Tyrion approached Selwyn. At one-and-ten, Tyrion was not much taller than Selwyn’s four-year-old. Despite his stature, Tyrion carried himself like a proud lion with the confidence of a man twice his age, though Jaime knew it was in show. 

Tyrion played at overconfidence to compensate for his insecurities. He used his wit and intellect as armor, proudly owning his perceived shortcomings like a badge of honor. Tyrion’s shoulders pulled back proudly as he acknowledged the new king. “Your Grace. Your daughter took good care of us.”

Selwyn laughed and nodded in reply. “You must be Lord Tyrion. I’ve heard quite a lot about you from your brother. I’m certain he’s thrilled to see you.”

At the words, Selwyn called Jaime over; another break from protocol which Jaime was happy to oblige. Stepping towards Tyrion, Jaime dropped to a knee and embraced his younger brother. “I’ve missed you, _Tyry_.”

Tyrion chuckled in his ear and whispered. “Genna has decided to forgo the king, but keep Brienne. She’s obsessed with the girl.”

“I can see that. She has made her a little replica.” Jaime stood from the ground and watched as Genna held back while father and daughter were reunited. Her eyes drifted to Tywin whose eyes held a warning. _‘Don’t fuck this up.’_

Swallowing down any protest, Genna forced the ultimate, false smile befitting a Lannister at court. She curtseyed to the king and inclined her head. “Your Grace.”

There was unease in Selwyn’s eyes as he put Brienne down and took Genna’s hand in formal greeting, placing a kiss to her knuckles. “Lady Genna. Thank you for watching over my daughter.”

“The honor was mine. She is… spirited.” Jaime could see Genna attempting to bite back a laugh. His eyes dropped to the young girl who was staring at the Kingsguard in awe. 

The young girl was not cute compared to other young girls of court. Her eyes and lips appeared oversized for her head, and a smattering of freckles covered her nose and cheeks. She held a flower close to her chest; her little knuckles going white from the tight grip.

“Daddy…. Is Ser Goodwin here?”

Selwyn glanced down. “No, no. He’s on Tarth, sweetling. We’ll see him soon.”

“They’re very shiny and big.” Brienne’s eyes never left the Kingsguard. She appraised them all, though she seemed more intrigued than afraid. Until the attack on King’s Landing, Rhaenys had always been uneasy around the Kingsguard. Many young children at court seemed intimidated by them. Selwyn’s daughter however seemed ready to interrogate the men. 

Selwyn hummed at the words and glanced back at the Kingsguard standing tall in their armor. Jaime hadn’t considered his sworn brothers before, but they were a rather tall group; certainly taller in height than the average man. 

“Yes, I suppose they are. Lets go inside. I’m certain you’re all quite hungry from travel. I can’t wait to hear how Lady Genna got you into such a fine dress.” 


	10. Cersei II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei arrives in King's Landing for Selwyn's coronation, and she is already scheming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to do a double posting today with chapter 11 (Selwyn POV).

Cersei scowled at the rambunctious one-year-old in her carriage. The boy was the spitting image of his father with few Lannister features to be found. “Sit down, Jasper!” 

Cersei had prayed to the gods that the babe would be born looking like her; golden and perfect. As awful as it was to have Jon’s seed quicken in her womb, Cersei considered that she would at least have a babe to call her own. For moons, she agonized over the perfect Lannister name. 

When the babe emerged looking more falcon than lion, she let Jon use his father’s name. _Weak. This child stinks of imperfection._

As the child grew, so too did his Arryn looks. Jasper had blue eyes, fair skin, and Arryn facial features. All he had that spoke to his Lannister lineage was a crown of golden hair. His energy level was exhausting, and the boy babbled incessantly. 

Jon smiled warmly at his son. Ever indulgent, Jon pretended at knowing what the boy was saying. Ordinarily, Jon would have ridden ahead with the knights. Since returning from war, his body was slow to recover. He lost the left arm up to the elbow, and Cersei despised the stump.

_They should have let him bleed to death on the battlefield. He’d have saved me the effort of killing him off myself._

It had hardly been the first time Cersei contemplated ways to kill Jon, but now she needed him. When the rebels won the war and killed Rhaegar in the process, Cersei saw her dreams crumble before her. She had hoped that Rhaegar would prevail and kill Jon in the process. _If only Rhaegar could see how easily my womb quickens, he would have taken me as wife._

Then a raven flew in regarding Viserys. With Rhaella dead to the birthing bed, Viserys would need to be taken as a ward. Initially, House Stark had been considered. With Ned and Catelyn starting their own family, and Ned taking the role as Hand, it was not a viable option. Cersei’s mind began to consider the advantage in Jon taking Viserys as ward.

First, doing so would keep Viserys close. He was the last male Targaryen with claim to the throne. Cersei imagined it was the very reason that the new king, Selwyn Tarth, did not wish to keep his distant kin in the Red Keep. 

Second, the eight-year-old would be easy to influence. When the time came that Viserys was old enough to take as husband, Cersei could find a way to rid herself of Jon. _I’ll marry a Targaryen King, though not the one I thought._ They would have the Vale to reclaim the throne, and possibly more kingdoms to answer the call. 

With Jaime still in the Kingsguard, he would have no claim to the West when Tywin’s time came to meet the Stranger. Further, Tywin would never debase himself or their House by naming Tyrion as heir. If Cersei found a way to control the Vale and the West with Viserys at her side, she could take the throne.

If it came to war, she would need more kingdoms. Then Cersei considered _another_ way. Ever the opportunist, Tywin betrothed Genna to Selwyn. The vassal turned king had only one living child left; a four-year-old girl. Cersei considered that if Jaime wed the girl, he would be king when Selwyn and the girl died. After all, Jaime had just killed a king for less. Surely he would kill a king and his daughter if it meant securing the crown for Cersei. 

Keeping Viserys and Jaime under her thumb gave Cersei multiple paths to power. She would become queen of the Seven Kingdoms; whether on Viserys’ arm or Jaime’s, Cersei cared little. Love was a weakness for which she had little time. 

After finding out of Petyr’s affections for Catelyn Stark, Cersei used the information to her advantage. Petyr proved a cunning man who could rival Cersei’s own strategic plays. His skill for managing coin was most impressive, and Cersei encouraged Jon to use Petyr’s talent to improve the economic prosperity of the Vale. 

With the Vale’s increasing trade and wealth, Cersei could amass any necessary funds for hired swords or faceless men, should either prove necessary at a point. Perhaps if Jaime or Viserys failed to do as Cersei bid them, she could hire someone to do what they could not. Further, increased trade improved relations with other kingdoms.

Cersei thrived at court. She knew what others desired, and she manipulated them to get her way. Cersei was rapidly gaining the loyalty and trust of the Vale’s vassals, but she was also ingratiating herself with nobility from other kingdoms. Cersei was creating her own empire through Jon’s good name.

Knowing the weakness that love caused, Cersei used it against Petyr. She whispered honeyed words into his ear about how they could sway Catelyn to him, and she offered ideas for how to achieve his objective.

_One moon ago_

“If you bring me power in the Vale, I’ll bring you what you desire most. Catelyn Stark.”

Petyr’s eyes narrowed in question. “I’m sorry?”

“I saw the way you looked at her. I also saw the way her sister looked at you. Help me amass power, and I’ll help you attain your love.” 

The promise had intrigued Petyr. “Pray tell, how would you do that? She is wed to Lord Stark. They had their first child together.” 

Cersei had taken a long sip of her wine. “All good things come to those who wait. Look how many men died in this war. Consider how many more die just as easily in their sleep. I have connections at the Red Keep. Connections with access to Ned’s throat. It seems that first, you would need a holding. Say, Riverrun?”

A sly smile stretched across Petyr’s face. “You think Lord Holster would wed me to his heir? Somehow, I don’t think I’m Edmure’s type.”

Cersei wished to smack the sarcastic smirk off his face. Instead, she raised a brow. “Though if something tragic were to happen to Edmure, who do you suppose would inherit Riverrun given his only other daughter is Lady of Winterfell and wife to the Lord Hand? Perhaps in time, you may even have _both_ Keeps.”

The possibilities were endless, but between them, they could find a way to remove those who stood between them and happiness. For Petyr, that meant Catelyn. For Cersei, that meant the throne.

Jon had his heir, which meant Cersei forever had the Vale. If Littlefinger had the Riverlands or the North, if their scheming worked to plan, Cersei would have another kingdom to join them with the West should the need arise. It would take time of course. 

Viserys needed to come of age. Brienne would need to flower. People would need to die. A partnership forged straight from the Seven Hells united Cersei and Petyr. 

Raising a cup to Cersei, Petyr smirked. “Those who hold my confidence call me _Littlefinger_.”

  
  
  


Now as Cersei sat in the carriage, her lips curled in distaste at the sight of Jon with his stump of an arm around the boy’s shoulders. Jon pointed outside the carriage window and smiled encouragingly at the landmarks they passed. 

The closer they came to the Red Keep, the more excited Cersei became. Deep in her bones, Cersei could feel that it would all be hers someday. It was her prophecy after all. _“You’ll marry the king.”_

After birthing Jasper, Cersei drank moon tea regularly to ensure she did not become pregnant with another babe. The prophecy stated that she would have three babes, and she wouldn't waste another on Jon. Strange though was the witch’s prophecy around her husband’s number of children. 

Cersei shook the thought from her mind and concentrated on the task at hand. First, she needed to make a _compelling_ argument to Jaime. Second, she would need to ensure Genna did not birth Selwyn any babes. She would plant the seed in her father’s mind that Jaime should wed the princess. 

When the carriage stopped in the courtyard, Jon stepped down from the carriage and turned to offer his hand. Cersei felt her skin crawl when they touched. Time never dulled her repulsion for the man. Still, she pretended at care and kindness, but inwardly, Cersei swallowed down bile at her own contrived affections. 

Staff lined up in greeting and Ned Stark smiled widely at the sight of his friend. The pair embraced and Ned asked after Jon’s injury. “Does it ail you still? Your coloring looks much better.”

“It could be worse, but I’m a blessed man. I’ve a son and wonderful wife from the ordeal, and we’ve removed madness from the realm. How are things here?”

“Good. King Selwyn is a good man; you had the right of it.” Ned glanced back at Catelyn and extended his arm. “Cat, you remember Lord Jon, of course.”

Catelyn Stark stepped forward and curtseyed as best she could with a babe in her arms. “Wonderful to see you again, Lord Jon. I’m glad you’re healing well. You had Ned quite worried for some time.”

With a squirming Jasper tugging at Jon’s hand, the aged lord reached down to scoop up his son. “Here we are! Lord Jasper, meet Lord Robb!”

The three adults fawned over the young boys who they hoped would become best of friends, but Cersei prayed for anything but. Her son should not be mingling with lesser lords. Her son, even though tainted by Jon’s blood, would live in the Red Keep someday. Of course, he would not be heir. A better child would wear the crown after Cersei and her king passed.

A booming voice floated out from the Keep. Stepping outside and into the courtyard was the largest man that Cersei had ever seen. Flanking the man she presumed to be Selwyn were Ser Barristan and Jaime. As Cersei’s eyes lingered on her brother, she watched his steps falter at the sight of her. His lips parted and he stared a touch longer than propriety would allow. 

As the three made their way down the steps, the large man smiled cordially as Ned introduced him to Jon. “Your Grace, I believe you know Lord Jon Arryn.”

“Yes, of course! We’ve met before, and Lord Jon is a good man. The kingdoms are indebted to your courage in standing up to the crown.”

Jon smiled warmly and bowed in greeting. “Your Grace, there was no other option for me after what House Targaryen did to my friends. I must say, you’ve picked a fine Hand in Lord Stark. He’s the best of them.”

Selwyn beamed at patted Ned on the shoulder. “Yes, he’s done a fine job keeping me in line already. And who is this young fellow? Lord Jasper is it?”

At the attention on Jasper, Jon beamed as though he’d won entry into the Seven Heavens. “Yes, this is. And this is my wife, Lady Cersei Arryn.”

_Cersei Lannister. I’m a Lannister._

Stepping forward, Cersei curtseyed and forced a courtly smile to her face. “Your Grace.”

The words were bitter in her mouth. They left a foul taste as she swallowed her jealous rage. Before replying, Selwyn glanced back at Jaime who was still staring at Cersei. 

“Yes, I’m quite familiar with your brother. A wonderful knight.” 

Still, Jaime was all eyes for Cersei. _Fool that he is. He’ll cause questions to swirl._

“Cersei. Good to see you.” Jaime’s voice sounded formal to anyone who didn’t know him better. Being his twin, Cersei could read the multiple layers to it; formality, sincerity, and lust. 

_This will be easier than I thought. Thank the gods he’s still in that awful Kingsguard armor. Father has not ruined this yet._

Once all pleasantries were exchanged, Cersei and her family were shown to their guest quarters. “I wish to spend some time with my brother this evening. I’ve not seen him since he left home some years ago.”

Jon nodded absently as he played with Jasper in the room. “Yes, of course. Ned was hoping to dine with us, but I’ll just bring Jasper along.”

Later that night, Cersei sent an attendant to summon Jaime to her room. It was likely that Jon would not return for some time, stinking of wine and mirth. That would afford more time than was necessary to sway Jaime to her cause. Cersei lamented that she was on her moonblood. She would have given herself fully to Jaime that night, but it mattered little to Cersei. She had other ways to get what she wanted.

When Jaime entered the room, Cersei pulled him into a searing kiss. She could feel her twin’s tension melt away at her touch. He whispered words of love between kisses, but soon Cersei pushed him back. 

“Come, sit with me brother. I’ve not seen you in years.”

Cersei guided Jaime towards the corner table. He tried to intertwine their fingers, but she released his hand and sat down before he could. 

Jaime pulled his chair close and reached for Cersei’s face, but she needed him to focus _before_ anything else passed between them. “I need your help, Jaime.”

At the words, any lust in Jaime’s eyes faded. “What is it? Are you well? Has that…” Jealousy clouded his eyes and rage caused his jaw to clench before he continued. “... old man mistreated you in any way?”

“It’s awful, Jaime! You can’t imagine it. Father forced the old man on me. Forced me to do my duty and have his babe.”

Jaime looked away; the pain on his face evident. “I… I had to hear you were pregnant during one of Aerys’ mad rants. No one sent me word.”

Cersei had birthed Jasper during the war, and there was no way to communicate with those at the Red Keep unless allied to the crown.

“Yes, well imagine being the one having to spread your legs to that disgusting man.” Cersei’s lips curled in distaste as she spoke. “I take moon tea now. I’ve given him his heir.”

Jaime’s shoulders sagged and he nodded in understanding. Still, jealousy and anger remained on his features. “He’s old. He’ll die off soon enough, and then…”

Jaime took a pause and met Cersei’s eyes. His face clouded with hope before he spoke. “...I’ll ask King Selwyn to allow our union. He likes me well-enough, and I think that I could convince…”

_Seven hells. I should have been the one born with a cock. He truly is a fool if he thinks this is the way. I want my crown._

“What? Don’t be stupid, Jaime. You’ll do no such thing.” At Cersei’s vehemence, Jaime recoiled as if struck. 

“I thought… if I could get his approval, that we could…”

“Are you mad? The kingdoms would never accept it nor allow it. _Father_ would never allow it.” Cersei scolded Jaime. His face fell in reply, and he shook his head vigorously. 

“I don’t care what father wants. I don’t care what any of them want. I only want you. King Selwyn will allow the Kingsguard to marry! We’re not going to announce it publicly, but it will be part of our new vows. You always said… House Targaryen wed brother and sister. Surely as he is of that line, King Selwyn would allow it.”

“It was only allowed because they were kings and could do as they please, which is why you must become king...” Cersei raised a brow and watched as confusion flooded Jaime’s eyes. 

“I don’t understand.”

_Of course you don’t. He got all the cock. I got all the intelligence._

Taking Jaime’s hands, Cersei looked deep into his eyes. “Just as I’ve had to endure my miserable marriage, you will need to endure one, but only long enough to become king. When Selwyn’s daughter comes of age, you’ll wed her. Jon is old and won’t live much longer. You could ensure that both Selwyn and his daughter meet the Stranger once you wed her.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack and he pulled his hands away. “What? Why would I do that?”

“For me, Jaime. For our love. If we sit on the throne, no one can tear us apart. _No one_. You already killed one king. Why not kill another sovereign or two. For me. For us. We can be together and have all the power.”

Something passed over Jaime’s face that was difficult to read. Cersei had always read him easily enough, but for the first time, she was uncertain. Reaching for the laces of Jaime’s breeches, Cersei mumbled words of love against his ear. “For us. I need you. I love you.”

Summoning as many tears as she could muster, Cersei placed a kiss to Jaime’s lips and sank to her knees, repeating the mantra that echoed in her mind day after day. ‘ _Tears aren’t a woman’s only weapon. The best one is between my legs.’ Today I’ll give him both._

Later when Jaime left the room, Cersei smiled to herself and took a sip of wine. Jaime would not fail her. He would always be hers. Hers to command. Hers to control. 

_Jaime came into this world clutching at my foot. He will follow me anywhere. Without me, he is lost. We are one person in two bodies._

* * *

The next night, Cersei visited her father’s assigned chambers. Her knuckles rapt lightly on the door and awaited his call for entry. When she stepped inside, she watched as Genna stood angrily from her chair and stormed towards the door. 

Her aunt was dressed in a flowing green gown with gold embroidery. Her long, golden hair was pulled back into a braid, and her bosom threatened to burst through her corset as she stormed past Cersei. 

“Good luck with him! He’s in a fine mood.” Genna huffed as she passed. When her aunt was in the hallway, Cersei closed the door and moved slowly towards her father. He stood from his seat and poured a cup of wine. The set in his features spoke to the storm brewing within.

“I hope you don’t aim to disappoint me as your aunt has. What is it?” Tywin’s voice was thick with indifference as he turned around and appraised Cersei.

With a small shrug, Cersei stepped closer. “I imagine she’s still complaining about her duty to this family. Just as I’ve done my part, so must she.”

Tywin hummed and reclaimed his seat. “As you will do your part again when the time comes. You’ve given Jon an heir, but he’s an old man. I’ll need to consider other options for you when the time comes.”

Cersei swallowed the rage threatening to push past her lips. Tywin’s thoughts on her worth mattered little for the conversation to come. Instead, she challenged his ego. “It’s a smart choice to leverage Genna to bring you the throne, but not the smartest.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed and he began to protest, but Cersei cut him off. “Wouldn’t your legacy be better-suited to putting a Lannister on the throne rather than a Tarth?”

When Tywin’s protest died and he considered Cersei, he leaned back in his chair. “Genna will birth Selwyn a son. He only has a daughter.”

“Yes, but that son will still be a Tarth. Marry Jaime to his daughter, and your grandson will claim the throne.”

Tywin snorted and twirled the stem of the wine cup in between his fingers. “I’d considered as much, but it’s too great a risk. His daughter is four. It will be at least eight years before she flowers. Selwyn could change his mind before then, and Genna is a guarantee now.”

“Then have her take moon tea. Have her do her duties as his wife, but give him no heirs. Use the time to curry favor with him and push the match between Jaime and Brienne. He plans to stay in the Kingsguard, but if Selwyn sees what a strong match he is, he’ll release Jaime. The fool calls Jaime some kind of savior.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Tywin took a sip of his wine. “Jaime refuses. I’ve spoken to him of it, but the boy is willfully stubborn.”

Cersei raised a brow; a victorious smirk on her face. “I believe that I’ve convinced him otherwise. Of course, there are other ways to ensure you get what you want from Aunt Genna and Jaime.”

Tywin narrowed his eyes in consideration and waited for Cersei to continue. Taking a sip of wine, Cersei smiled sweetly. “You have the little monster. Take him back to the Rock. You might be surprised how agreeable Aunt Genna and Jaime become when given proper motivation.”


	11. Selwyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn's coronation arrives. He speaks with Genna and comes they come to terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting today (this and the prior chapter - chapter 10, Cersei POV)

The first rays of sunlight crept into Selwyn’s bedchambers and disturbed his already poor sleep. His hand fumbled for his snifter on the stand near his bed. The familiar smell of brandy hit Selwyn’s nose, and his tongue moistened his lips in anticipation. 

Inwardly, Selwyn knew his reliance on the drink was unhealthy. Since his wife’s passing, it had been the only way Selwyn could cope. Very few people truly knew Selwyn, and those who did, were still on Tarth. Selwyn considered that if Ser Goodwin could see him now, the man would chuck the brandy over the balcony and beat Selwyn senseless with a training sword. 

_ ‘Wake up! The bloody kingdom and your daughter are drowning with you.’ _

That afternoon, Selwyn would take the crown. He never wanted the bloody thing, but now there was no avoiding it. Despite his hesitance, the council Selwyn surrounded himself with were capable and dedicated to the success of the kingdoms. Like them, Selwyn wanted to see the kingdoms thrive. He wanted peace; peace for the realm and peace for himself.

After grabbing the snifter and downing what little brandy remained, Selwyn stood from his bed and began to ready for the day. He wore an azure and rose doublet over a crisp, white tunic. His breeches were a dark grey and well-fitted to his large frame. Washing his face over the water basin, Selwyn glanced in the looking glass and sighed. Dark circles underscored his eyes and worry lines were permanently creased onto his face.

_ Gods. I’ve gone to shit.  _

With a heavy sigh, Selwyn stepped away. A knock at the door caught his attention and he called out for the visitor to enter. When the door opened, Brienne ran inside with Septa Roelle at her heels. 

“Hi Daddy!” The four year old’s hair bounced as she ran. Her hair was tied back in a messy braid, but keeping her hair in order was never an easy task. Her bright blue eyes stared up at Selwyn and sent a pang of sorrow to his heart. 

All Selwyn could see when he looked at Brienne was Arianne. Brienne’s eyes were identical to her mother’s, and they always took Selwyn’s breath away. In just a few moon turns, Brienne would turn five. She was already taller than her peers; certainly taller than Galladon had been at the same age. The bridge of her nose had a smattering of tiny freckles, and her cheeks were pink from running down the hallway.

“Good morning. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the day?” Selwyn appraised Brienne. 

The young girl was wearing Galladon’s old clothing again. As if enduring her eyes wasn’t painful enough, Brienne had taken to donning Galladon’s old clothing when not forced into a dress for court. He hated the sight of it and sighed in exhaustion.

Brienne appraised herself and shrugged. “I thought you would like it.”

“No. Please, put on a dress. Those are your brother’s clothes.” Selwyn tried to remove the frustration from his voice, but the strain was clear to anyone with ears. 

He knew that Brienne meant no harm. They had talked about it on Tarth when she first began to dress in her brother’s things. Brienne’s eyes had filled with tears when Selwyn raged at the sight of her in Galladon’s things.

_ ‘They smell like him and I can pretend he is with me.’ _

Selwyn had to swallow a groan of despair.  _ ‘He is gone. The sea took him.’ _

The sadness in Brienne’s sapphire pools broke his heart. ‘ _ I don’t want to be alone.’ _

Selwyn hadn’t known what to say to that. During the day, he had often left her in the care of Septa Roelle. Brienne also trailed after Ser Goodwin; the Master-at-Arms on Tarth. The man was a dear friend and would take on the role of Castellan while Selwyn was in the city. Someday, Brienne’s second-born would rule Tarth given her firstborn would take the throne. It was a far cry from the life Selwyn envisioned for his life and family, though he supposed Tarth would become the new version of Dragonstone; an island holding the heir to the Iron Throne.

Glancing back at Septa Roelle, Selwyn forced a smile and spoke through gritted teeth. “I wanted these clothes gone. Please, get rid of them.”

“Apologies, your Grace. I must have missed a set and I found her this way. She has been particularly  _ trying  _ this morning.” The septa’s eyes narrowed at Brienne as the young girl stood sheepishly before Selwyn. Brienne glanced up through her lashes and mumbled an apology.

“I’m sorry. I was being loud.”

_ Singing and running about most likely.  _

With a nod, Selwyn patted her head and tried to offer reassurance. “Just… go get dressed. I’ll see you soon, sweetling.”

Until Brienne left the room, it felt as though his lungs were being tightly compressed. Selwyn pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. When the door closed, Selwyn exhaled and rushed towards the table to pour himself some more brandy. 

Visions of Galladon and Ariannne flooded Selwyn’s mind. Brienne always had a way to remind him at the worst of times. His hands shook as he reached for the drink; his heart tearing in two as the memories refused to leave him.

_ Gods. Get me through this day.  _

An hour before Selwyn was to present himself at court for the coronation, he was to formally meet with Genna Lannister. The woman had arrived just the day prior, but they had yet to speak in private of their betrothal. Selwyn sat in his audience chamber and answered the door when he heard a knock.

When Selwyn pulled open the door, Tywin stood beside his sister who looked as pleased to be there as Selwyn felt. “Please, come in.”  _ We can be miserable together.  _

“Your Grace, may I present my sister who you briefly met yesterday, Lady Genna Lannister.”

The woman offered a courtly smile and curtsy as she had the day prior. Her green eyes were sharp, and her tense jaw betrayed her displeasure. “Your Grace.”

“Perhaps after the coronation, you can find a moment to speak with me regarding Jaime.” Tywin’s tone was less a request and more a demand. With a forced smile, Selwyn hummed. 

“Of course. It does seem to be your favorite topic.”  _ Seven take me. _

Tywin excused himself and Selwyn was left alone with Genna Lannister. He offered her a seat and poured himself another glass of brandy. With the bottle in hand, he turned towards Genna and raised a brow. “Care to join me? Maester’s orders.”

“Is that truly appropriate before your coronation?” Genna spoke challengingly and watched Selwyn’s movements as he poured her a glass.

“I find that I’m more agreeable when numb. Perhaps I won’t flee from the throne room if I indulge a bit.”

Walking towards Genna, Selwyn extended a snifter and clinked his glass against hers. “Listen, Lady Genna… I’m certain you’re a lovely woman, but I wish to be honest with you.”

Taking a seat, Selwyn sighed and took a long sip of the brandy. The liquid blazed a path down his throat as he swallowed. The burn was deep and necessary. It made him feel something before the inevitable numbness washed over him. Before those gods damned blue eyes haunted him.

“For me, this is a political marriage. I have no expectations of you where it concerns the marital bed or heirs. I have my heir, and I had my love. I swore to myself never to take another, because it would be unfair to the memory of my wife, and to the woman forced to endure me. I’ve lost three children in the span of a year and my deal with your brother was to save the life of my last living child. I’ll never be able to repay that debt, and I intend to keep my word to him. I tell you this in earnest, because I don’t want to hurt a good woman. I’ll make a shit husband.”

Genna’s brows furrowed and she stared at the snifter in her hand. Taking a long sip, she nodded. “This could work.” 

Selwyn was uncertain if the words were meant for him or herself. “Pardon?” 

Genna lifted her eyes to meet Selwyn’s, and he noted the raw pain there. “I never loved my husband. I was betrothed to Emmon Frey at seven years of age; wed to him at two-and-ten. When word arrived that he fell in battle, I did not weep, though I did send a prayer to the gods that it was quick and painless. He wasn’t a bad man; he just wasn’t  _ mine _ . Then I read the rest of the letter and saw that our two sons, my  _ only  _ children, died at his side. I hardly had a moment to mourn them before my brother was devising some scheme to turn my grief to his advantage. I don’t wish to lay with you, nor do I ask for your fidelity. Perhaps… perhaps we could help one another. All I have left in this world are my nephews; Jaime and Tyrion.”

Selwyn felt a pang of sympathy for the woman before him. Like himself, she was hurting deeply. Selwyn straightened in his chair and waited on her next words. “My brother  _ now  _ insists that Tyrion must return to the Rock. I wish that I could keep Tyrion here, though I can help Jaime. He was Aerys’ prisoner, and I worry for him. He was just a boy, and I’ve heard tales of Aerys’ cruelties and madness. I’d be content to watch over Jaime. Perhaps I can be of use in political matters. I am a Lannister after all… it’s what we do.” 

Nodding in affirmation, Selwyn rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “Jaime says you’d make a fine Master of Coin.”

Genna’s brows rose at the suggestion. “I managed House Lannister’s purse these last years. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re rich.”

Selwyn snorted and raised a defensive hand. “Oh, I’ve heard.”

Both hummed and sank back into their chairs. With a heavy sigh, Selwyn considered Genna. “I’d not stop you from taking a lover. I’d encourage it even so long as you’re discreet. I experienced the greatest of loves, and once you’ve had that, there is simply no replacing it. I’m sorry that you missed out on it in your first marriage, and that you’d miss out on it in ours.”

Genna snorted and her tone was teasing as she spoke. “I don’t expect to find love in this lifetime, but I thank you for offering infidelity on my part. I’ve given up on such things though. To be honest, I was worried that you might expect things from me. This is a welcome relief.” 

Something in her words made Selwyn chuckle. He raised his snifter and inclined his head. “To being miserable together. Perhaps we can at least enjoy some comradery in that, and I appreciate that you can balance a book. All I can count are jars of brandy remaining in the cellars.”

Genna groaned in distaste. When she raised the snifter to her nose, she grimaced and shook her head. “This is shit, by the way. I’ll stick to my wine. You should find a better way to cope with your pain. This isn’t healthy.”

“Oh? Any advice on that front?” Selwyn took another long sip of brandy and enjoyed the burn.

“Outwit those who piss you off and enjoy their ensuing misery.” 

_ Gods. I’ll not piss her off. _

When the hour of the coronation came, Selwyn took one last stiff drink before making his way towards the throne room. He reprimanded himself for being weak and turning to the drink. The pain of loss never dulled with time. Nighttime was the worst. In the darkness, he could feel his wife’s phantom hand on his chest. He could see her mirthful eyes looking down at him. He could taste the mint at her lips. 

While Selwyn didn’t care for the throne, he hoped the city would bring him reprieve. Selwyn wondered if a different Keep would push away hallways of memories. So far, it only offered problems. Everyone had need for something from the Stormlands’ vassal turned king. Then there was Brienne.

Brienne looked at Selwyn like he could restore what was lost. The only answer he had to her desperate sapphires was to call for the septa. It was pathetic, and he knew it.  _ She’ll be fine. She’ll have far more friends here than on Tarth. It’s a fresh start for her. _

When the doors to the throne room were pulled back, Selwyn walked inside with his eyes fixed on the awful throne at the far end.  _ What an absurd chair. Not even a bloody cushion. Perhaps we can melt it down and do something useful with it. _

The court quieted at Selwyn’s entry. He could feel their appraising eyes on his large frame. Whenever he entered a room, Selwyn received the same inquisitive stares and false assumptions.  _ Is he half giant? Who sired such a massive man? He must be a brute. More beast than man.  _

Selwyn could never reconcile his own mind from his body. A walking dichotomy. He was a man who wanted peace and love; not war and power. Selwyn prayed to the gods that Brienne did not inherit his size, but he worried at how she grew in the last two years. People judged without knowing, and their words could be cruel.  _ ‘Words are wind.’ _

As a boy, it was Selwyn’s first lesson. _ ‘Dunk the Lunk, boy. That’s what they called me. Let others say what they will. Words are wind. My sword responds for me.’ _

Walking forward, Selwyn saw Ned standing beside the Septon. In the front row on the left side stood Selwyn’s chosen small council members. The Kingsguard stretched out at the base of the stairs with Ser Barristan in the middle. To the right stood Selwyn’s kin. Just Brienne. 

Inwardly Selwyn had wondered if his father was still alive at the Wall. The last letter he received was penned twelve years prior. Still, Selwyn wrote, but no replies came. 

Brienne smiled at Selwyn like he was the sun, and it made him want to hide in some unseen alcove and cry. In her little hands, she held a poorly woven crown of flowers. Always with her head in the clouds and her fists in the dirt, Brienne loved weaving makeshift crowns. 

Galladon used to pick stray flowers and tuck them behind her ear after he vanquished threats to rescue the maiden fair. There was no one to pick Brienne flowers now, so she picked her own. The sight almost broke Selwyn, and he had to glance away. 

When Selwyn ascended the steps, it felt more like a march towards the Stranger. He turned and faced the assembled court. Dignitaries from every kingdom crammed into the massive hall, but Selwyn could only think of home. At the back of the hall, Selwyn’s mind conjured Arianne. Her blue eyes that were so much like Brienne’s stared back at him; a sorrowful smile on her face. 

Risking a second glance at Brienne, Selwyn noted Tywin Lannister looming tall at her back. Of course he would be there. He would always be there now. At Tywin’s side, Cersei and Jon Arryn stood tall with Jasper in the older lord’s arms. More dignitaries crammed in at their side and backs. 

Beside Brienne was Septa Roelle, Genna, and Tyrion. The young boy was staring at his older brother with pride puffing out his small chest. For her part, Genna’s eyes darted to Brienne; a subtle wink offered when Brienne glanced up at her.

The Septon stepped forward and lifted his arms with the crown in hand. Leading the ceremony with the blessings of the Seven, the Septon invoked the gods' graces on Selwyn. The throne room felt stifling, and Selwyn felt his hands shake nervously. 

“In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Selwyn of the House Tarth, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the realm. Long may he reign.”

As the Septon’s arms reached up and placed the crown atop his head, Selwyn mused that such a small thing had never felt so heavy. The Septon’s arms shook from the effort of reaching up so high to place the crown, and the relief on his face was evident as he stepped backwards. The assembled crowd repeated the Septon’s words dutifully. “Long may he reign.”

Glancing once more at Brienne, Selwyn bit back a laugh as she clapped loudly; clearly unaware of what was expected of her. The Septa quickly stilled her hands and gave a reprimanding look. It was a confusing response for Brienne as only moments after, the crowd cheered loudly; their own hands coming together to applaud their new king. 

For what felt an eternity, Selwyn was forced to sit on the throne and smile as dignitaries approached to offer their loyalty. Grumbling to Ned, Selwyn spoke through gritted teeth. “How many more? My ass is falling asleep.”

“You’re nearly done… with one side of the hall.”

_ Gods dammit.  _

The feast that followed was overdone and wholly unnecessary. Selwyn had never felt so alone while surrounded by so many people. At the feast, his betrothal to Genna would be announced. As a formality, Genna was seated nearby with her kin. The Kingsguard stood dutifully at his back, and Ned wondered how their legs hadn’t given out by now. To his side, a tiny hand reached out for his arm. 

“Daddy. I made you a crown.” Brienne smiled softly and extended the poorly constructed crown of flowers towards him. 

“Thank you, sweetling. I’ll wear it proudly.” 

Before Selwyn could put it on, Septa Roelle tugged her away. “I’ll get her to bed, your Grace. It has been a long day.”

Brienne’s face fell at the words. “Can we eat lunch together on the morrow?”

Glancing to the left, Selwyn recalled his existing commitment. “I can’t. I’ve a meeting with the new lady of Storm’s End. Perhaps another time.”

From behind Selwyn, a presence approached. “Time for bed, princess? Shall I escort you?”

Ser Arthur crouched before Brienne and produced a flower from behind his back. “I hear you like flowers. Shall we call you Little Flower?” 

Brienne’s eyes sparkled as she took the flower and stared in awe at Arthur. “You’re one of the big knights!” Of course, Selwyn understood that she meant  _ great knights _ , and he gathered that Arthur understood the meaning too.

Arthur snorted and nodded; his lips pursed in contemplation. “Not so big as some of my sworn brothers, but I do think that I’m the best looking. Don’t tell Ser Jaime though. He fancies himself the prettiest among us.”

Standing upright, Arthur extended a hand to guide the young girl. Brienne stared up at him the entire way and inundated him with questions. When her eyes caught Dawn at his hip, Selwyn groaned.  _ Gods. She’ll try to take it. _

Brienne loved songs and romantic tales, but Selwyn always noted the spark in her eyes when a sword was presented. She used to watch Galladon train in the yards; her eyes fixated on the blade as it cut through the air. It was as though she was in a trance when watching others train. Afterwards, she would go right back to her dolls, tales, and sonnets. 

Not an hour later, Selwyn knew it was time. Ned called the hall to silence as Selwyn stood.  _ Please forgive me, Arianne. I’ll never commit my heart to this. It’s for Brienne.  _

Standing from his seat, Selwyn took a steadying breath and glanced at Genna. She offered a frown in commiseration and raised her cup of wine. The act was enough to give Selwyn the boost he needed to get through the announcement. 

“I thank you all for attending and celebrating with me here tonight. It is my aim to restore peace and justice to the realm. Our kingdoms have endured enough madness, fire, and blood to last for generations to come. As a first step in unifying our kingdoms, I am honored to announce my betrothal to Lady Genna Lannister; a kind and well-respected woman who will bring dignity to the crown.”

Cheers erupted in the hall and a smug smile tugged at Tywin’s lips. Downing the last of his wine, Selwyn took a deep breath and sat back down. His heart broke at the finality of it. His one promise to himself, to Arianne, broken. 

_ I only ever wanted to say my vows to her.  _

The rest of the night was a blur. When Selwyn swayed back to his room, he slumped into the chair nearest the fire and drank brandy until the bottle ran dry. The night would haunt him, and he feared attempting to take rest while sober. 

* * *

The next day, Selwyn arose with a horrific headache. As promised, he would break his fast with Tywin before meeting with the council and taking lunch with Lady Lyanna  _ Baratheon _ . 

Of course, the first words out of Tywin’s mouth nearly lulled Selwyn to sleep. “About my son..”

_ His son. As though he has one.  _

“It would seem that despite my desire to see him take his place as heir, he insists on serving in the Kingsguard. I would merely ask that should he change his mind, you release him.”

The request was more than reasonable, and Selwyn nodded in conciliation. Thinking the matter settled, Selwyn reached for an apple at the center of the table and rubbed the skin against his doublet. Before he could take a bite of the polished fruit, Tywin spoke once more.

“My son… he is a fine young man. I hope you see that.”

Selwyn’s brows furrowed at the words. “Of course. The kingdoms are indebted to him.”

The head of House Lannister nodded and tapped the table slowly with his fingers. “I imagine it will be some time before Jaime realizes that there is more to life than running enemies through with a sword. Perhaps by the time he realizes such things, your daughter will be of age.”

Selwyn flinched at the words. Brienne was a girl of four, and hardly of age to consider for a young man of seven-and-ten. Of course, marriages had made been on far greater age differences, but Selwyn wanted nothing to do with such conversation now. 

“She’s quite young for all that.” Selwyn grimaced as he spoke. To discuss a match now felt absurd. 

“Even stil, matches can be made and weddings withheld until both parties are of age. You’ve seen the quality of my son. He is heir to a Great House, and a renowned knight. I believe he would make a fine match.”

Selwyn sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Yes, I concede that he would be an excellent match. I’m not ready to think about such things, but I do promise to discuss the matter with you when the time comes.”

_ Does this man mean to marry everyone named Tarth off to a Lannister? Thank the gods my father is at the Wall, or Tywin might dig up his mother.  _

Seemingly pleased enough with the response, Tywin moved to the topic of the wedding to Genna. “Perhaps in four moons.”

“No.” Selwyn’s answer was curt, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. “Six moons would be better. There is much to accomplish in the kingdoms first.”

Four moons was the first moon of the year. It was in the first moon that Selwyn wed his wife. It was in the first moon that Brienne was born. 

Tywin seemed neither pleased nor displeased by the answer. He rambled about other matters concerning the wedding and relations between the crown and the West. Finally, he spoke to the appointment of Master of Coin.

“My sister tells me that you’ve extended the role to her. She would do an adequate job, though I could offer advice beyond that of finances.” 

_ For a man so blunt, I’m surprised he doesn’t simply ask for the crown. Were he not so untrustworthy, I’d give it to him gladly. _

“As I’m certain you would, Lord Tywin. Though I’m certain you can understand my position. Appointing Genna as Master of Coin affords me time with her during the day in addition to the night. She is a Lannister after all, and I trust her handling of coin better than most.”

Tywin eventually dropped the subject and they finished their meal in relative silence. For that much, Selwyn was grateful. His head was still throbbing and his body exhausted. 

After their strained meal, Selwyn made his way towards small council chambers. The Tower of the Hand felt an obnoxiously far walk from the royal apartments, and Selwyn contemplated setting up a table in his own bedchambers to save himself the effort. 

_ I could lay abed with my brandy and let them battle it out.  _

At Selwyn’s back, the Blackfish and Ser Arthur followed dutifully. He glanced back at the men and smiled. “Don’t you men ever tire of standing all day and following me about?”

Brynden only offered a small shrug in reply. “I’ve not been here long. If I grow weary of it already, you’ll have greater issues with the Kingsguard than allowing them to whore about.”

Of course, Brynden was more traditional and similar to Barristan. The two knights felt an allowance for lovers and children a distraction. Fortunately, Arthur was there to push back.

“As you conceded, you’ve not been here long. Try serving chastely for years.” 

Brynden raised a knowing brow. “The Sword of the Morning has remained chaste? Seven take me now.”

A lie and all three knew it. Arthur had already admitted to the implied loopholes.  _ ‘I’ve fathered no children, nor taken a wife. I’ve kept my oath.’ _

Unlike Prince Lewyn whose brothers knew of his paramour, Arthur was more discreet with his choices. Still, there were choices, and he was eager to live more openly about them. Like many in Dorne, Arthur had an eye for beauty in any form. He valued a strong personality with looks to match. 

Council was laborious that day. Aerys’ fixation on wildfire and the mass production of it left few other matters addressed. Much needed mending, and Selwyn despaired at all the work that lay ahead. At the reminder of wildfire, Selwyn glanced at Barristan. 

“Lord Commander, what of that  _ project  _ in the city?” Since the rebellion ended, Selwyn had a team working around the clock to safely remove the substance. Given the instability of the liquid, it was a slow moving process.

“All sections, but one. It will be done by the end of this week.”

Selwyn felt as though he could breathe. If anything had happened to the innocent during the removal of the wildfire, Selwyn wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. “Good. When it’s done, we’ll be certain to clarify events of the day.”

The rest of the council seemed confused by the words, but Varys knew. Selwyn wasn’t certain that he trusted the man, but Varys had too many informants to dismiss so easily. Like Tywin, Selwyn would need to tread carefully in his dealings with the Spider.

When at last council ended, Selwyn sought out Lady Lyanna. She was staying in the Tower of the Hand with Ned and his growing family. Given her daughter was not much older than young Robb, it also afforded Lyanna aid. The cousins could grow up together, and Lyanna wasn’t so alone in the raising of her daughter.

Selwyn smiled at the one-year-old who clung to her mother. His size was always intimidating at first, and Selwyn crouched low to make the girl feel more comfortable. “You must be Lyarra. What a pretty name.”

_ Lyanna must not be a creative woman if she thinks to merely swap out a letter. _

As if sensing Selwyn’s thoughts, Lyanna met his eyes and spoke proudly. “It was my mother’s name. A strong name.”

_ Well then, perhaps her mother is the one lacking creativity.  _

Smiling at Lyanna, Selwyn inclined his head towards the table. “Shall we sit?”

At his inquiry, Lyanna nodded in agreement, but her daughter held firm to her leg. The young child was frightened and Selwyn wondered if he should have brought Brienne. She was a few years older, and quite large herself, but Brienne was delicate in nature. 

Before he could consider it further, Arthur was crouched before the young girl. “Do you like horses?”

The one-year-old nodded slowly at the question; her eyes following Arthur as he glanced back at Brynden. “They call that one the Blackfish. He is your goodaunt’s uncle. I think he makes for a fun horse. I tried to hop on his back the other day, but he said I’m too big. Very rude. Do you want to try?”

Brynden grumbled as he leaned against the wall, but a small smile tugged at his lips. The smirk at Arthur’s lips did little to help. “Come on then Ser Brynden. Be a horsey.”

With a sigh, Brynden crouched down on all fours. “Come on then. I’ve not done this since Cat was a little girl.”

Arthur lifted Lyarra onto Brynden’s back and kept close so Lyarra wouldn’t fall. The young girl giggled as Brynden moved slowly. It was amazing to Selwyn how easily Arthur won over small children. He imagined the knight had ample practice with a very difficult Viserys.

Lyanna’s eyes narrowed as she watched the knights play with her daughter. They took a seat and Selwyn began to impart some information about the Stormlands. He was impressed by the young woman. She was beautiful and smart, but she was also a touch wild with a penchant for swordplay. 

_ Brienne would quite like her. Perhaps I should bring her the next time. _

They spoke for some time and took lunch. When the attendants brought in two plates and a smaller meal for Lyarra, Selwyn spoke pleadingly. “Please, if you would. Two more plates. One for Ser Arthur, and one for his horse.”

“The Blackhorse. If you’re going to call me a horse, at least honor me.” Brynden grumbled from the floor as the young girl requested one final ride before it was time to eat. 

When the staff returned with two more meals for the Kingsguard, the conversation went from business to pleasure. At Selwyn’s side, Arthur stabbed at a piece of sausage and smirked at Lyanna. 

“Odd seeing you in a dress. Did you lose your brother’s armor?”

A knowing smirk stretched across Lyanna’s lips. “I do believe Benjen pieced that mess together, but the shield I kept as a souvenir. Such a shame that I never got to joust the real knights of the competition. I’d have enjoyed unhorsing you.”

Arthur raised an amused brow. “Perhaps a joust after this meal. You can use The Blackhorse and I’ll borrow our king here. He seems a fine destrier.” 

Selwyn chuckled at the words. He supposed he shouldn’t have favorite Kingsguards. It would be like picking a favorite child. Arthur was growing on him though, and he was quite fond of the little lion. 

_ Perhaps we should have a tourney. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn won't become a Robert, but he definitely needs support and to find his way through the grief.


	12. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime deals with Cersei's departure and settles into life under a new king.

The visiting dignitaries had left the Red Keep, and with them, Jaime’s heart. The encounter with Cersei on the day of her arrival was the only moment they shared. Jaime had cared little that she was on her moonblood, but Cersei refused to be with him fully. After everything that Jaime endured under Aerys, and the despair at hearing of Cersei’s marriage and pregnancy, Jaime had desperately needed her. Instead he received orders. 

Cersei’s words echoed in his mind.  _ ‘You already killed one king. Why not kill another sovereign or two. For me. For us.’ _

_ Does she think so little of me that I killed the king so easily? That I would break my vows for lack of something better to do? I broke my vows as a Kingsguard to uphold my vows as a knight.  _

Cersei wanted Jaime to choose love over duty. To choose her over honor. The request tore at Jaime’s heart. Neither she nor Tywin had asked Jaime  _ why  _ he killed Aerys. They saw where it could afford them advantage, and they sought to use it. Jaime was proud of his decision as much as he hated the implications. He was a kingslayer and oathbreaker. His sworn brothers supported him, and Jaime was thankful for it. Were it not for Barristan, Jon, and Arthur supporting him, Jaime feared the kind of man he would become.

During the coronation before Selwyn walked in, Jaime saw several people pointing and whispering. He saw the word at their lips as they glanced between Jaime and Barristan.  _ ‘Kingslayers’ _ It was Arthur who muttered under his breath and steadied Jaime’s racing heart.  _ ‘Ignore their ignorance.’ _

Jaime wanted to be with Cersei desperately, but he also needed the acceptance of his sworn brothers. Their belief in him gave a validation to Jaime that he never recognized needing. The request to kill Selwyn and Brienne for Cersei’s own selfish desires was wrong, and Jaime knew it. He could never bring himself to commit such a sin, but he also believed that Cersei was upset and acting out.

Their father used Cersei as much as he was using Genna. She had been forced into a loveless marriage with an old man, and forced to birth his child. Bitterness and anger shone brightly in her eyes when she had spoken in desperate tones, imploring Jaime to give her aid. 

_ She simply doesn’t see how our love could be accepted with Selwyn’s approval. We don’t need the crown; only the blessing from it. I’ll win Selwyn over and seek his approval of the match. Surely he’ll afford it. Cersei will see. The kingdoms will accept it, and we can be happy together. _

Jaime couldn’t fathom that Cersei desired power rather than him, for he would give the best parts of himself for her. He would trade in his White Cloak and sword if it made her happy. He just needed time.

More time was needed to convince Selwyn, and more time was needed with Cersei. Something felt off between them when Cersei visited the Red Keep. It wasn’t simply on account of their limited time together, it was a shift in their dynamic. 

Cersei had always led them in childhood. She initiated their physical relationship, and she guided Jaime’s actions from afar. For much of this life, Jaime considered Cersei his guiding light. He felt lost and aimless without her. The only purpose he found of late was through the Kingsguard. 

At first, he regretted the decision to join. He was haunted by the things he witnessed and the actions he could not take to protect the innocent, Rhaella, and Rhaegar’s family. Finding peaceful sleep was impossible. When his lids closed at night, Jaime heard Aerys’ maddened commands and saw green flames consuming everything. He heard Rhaella’s screams and smelled burning flesh.

Many nights, Barristan awoke Jaime from the nightmares. Even after being placed in the position of Lord Commander, Barristan did not take the larger sleeping cell afforded by the position. The second and third floors of the White Sword Tower held the small, sparsely decorated sleeping cells for six brothers of the Kingsguard. At the fourth and highest level of the tower, the apartments of the Lord Commander sat empty and collected dust. Jaime knew that when the final Kingsguard position was filled, he would lose Barristan; his one source of comfort from the night terrors. 

Inwardly, Jaime wondered if it was his fault that Barristan did not take advantage of the more comfortable sleeping quarters. He wondered if Barristan only kept their rooms together to help conceal Jaime’s night terrors from the other brothers. It was the one thing that Jaime, Jon, Arthur, and Barristan never spoke of. Aerys.

They all bristled when the name was raised or conversation turned towards Aerys’ reign. Each man seemed to cope differently with their shared past. Jaime went away inside when confronted with reminders. Barristan the Bold fled the room. Arthur took to the yards. Jon went to the tavern. 

Jaime had hoped to talk to Cersei about everything. She was always the stronger of the two. He recalled how bold she was in the face of danger or challenge. From extending tempting fingers towards a caged lion to swapping clothing for the day to pick up a sword in the yards, Cersei enjoyed a challenge and testing everyone around her. She knew what she wanted, and Cersei would stop at nothing to get it.

_ And now, does she want the crown or me? Which is it?  _

Jaime readied for the day and made his way towards the common room where they held meetings. The walls of the room were whitewashed stone, and a large weirwood table was set out before a large fireplace. Jaime appreciated the simplicity of the room. Unlike the Rock where everything was overdone, there was a certain humility to the White Sword Tower; a respect for tradition and symbolism. 

The table was carved in the shape of a shield and afforded space for three knights to sit at each side. At the head of the table was a chair for the Lord Commander. It was the most comfortable chair in the room with thick cushions and a larger frame to lounge in. While they lacked a seventh sworn brother, Barristan still sat among the rest of them. 

_ ‘Do you not appreciate a little padding for your ass, Lord Commander?’  _ Arthur had teased some weeks ago when they were still a brotherhood of four.

Barristan only muttered under his breath in reply.  _ ‘It’s the White Bull’s seat.’ _

Jaime noted Arthur’s amused reaction. His childhood idol nodded in feigned understanding as Barristan took a sip of water from his cup.  _ ‘Yes, of course. Though if the White Bull shows up, I’m leaving.’  _

Now as Jaime took his seat, he chuckled at the sight of Arthur lounging in the Lord Commander’s chair. Barristan had yet to arrive from his guard duty, but the other brothers were assembled. One of the chairs had been removed from the table and placed in the smaller, attached room with the White Book.

“Has Ser Barristan found a bride and left us already?” Jaime took his seat and reached for some fruit set out in a bowl at the center of the table.

Arthur hummed in reply. “The day Ser Barristan takes a lover is the day dead men walk and dragons return to the sky. At which point the White Bull will likely return for this chair.”

To Jaime’s right, Jon groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Quietly, brother. Your voice is more piercing than your sword.”

A long night at the tavern it would seem. While it wasn’t discussed, Jaime knew that Jon’s words and actions during Aerys’ reign haunted him terribly. He had only mentioned it once when he returned drunk from the tavern some weeks ago. Jaime helped Jon to his sleeping cell and tried to quiet him.

_ ‘I just stood there for years. And you… a fucking boy acted where I couldn’t. What did I do? Bark at you to obey? Reprimand you for wanting to prevent rape? Stranger take me.’’ _

It was the last time such words were spoken, and Jaime imagined that Jon didn’t recall them in the morning. From across the table, Brynden sighed and shook his head. “Have you ever considered turning down a tankard of ale, Darry?”

“Have you ever considered offering one, Tully?” Jon glanced at the ceiling and moaned. “When is our Lord Commander arriving? I could use a nap.”

A heartbeat later, Barristan entered the room quickly and muttered his apology. Arthur sprang from the chair and moved to the last remaining seat beside Lyn. Extending a hand toward the Lord Commander’s chair, Arthur smiled widely. “I warmed it for you.”

Barristan glanced in each direction. “Where is the other chair?”

“Where is our seventh brother?” Arthur countered and smirked. 

With a huff, Barristan sat down and grumbled. “I’m working on it.” Barristan rubbed at his eyes before spreading out the parchment in his hand. At nearly seven-and-forty, his blonde hair now had a smattering of white poking through. His eyes looked tired and sadder than usual.

_ Perhaps he should move into the Lord Commander’s apartment. I’m disturbing his sleep too much. _

“I’ve this letter from the Wall. They need more men, and Lord Commander Qorgyle hoped the war might produce some fighters refusing to bend to our new king. I don’t imagine any of you know any?”

Jaime snorted at the question. “The West bent, but their behavior earned them a spot.”

Jon, Barristan, and Arthur grumbled their agreement, but no names were offered. A sigh pushed past Brynden’s lips and he leaned back. “I’ll write my brother. He housed many a prisoner from loyalist vassals during the war. Surely there are some worthy of a new cloak.”

Lyn hummed in consideration. “The Vale is no different. I’ll write Lord Arryn.”

With the matter as settled as it could be, Barristan gave out shift assignments and Jaime groaned. “Truly? The girl again?”

_ I don’t want to solo guard the girl. I want to guard the king with one of my sworn brothers.  _

Arthur scoffed in reply. “You complain of being assigned to guard a child? A child who spends her days roaming the gardens to pick flowers, or watching the men spar? The rest of us will be staring at a wall.”

“Speak for yourself. You made me into a bloody pony the other day.” Brynden’s tone aimed for reprimand, but there was mirth in his eyes. 

“And you were glorious, Ser Blackhorse. I think Ser Lyn would like a ride later.” Arthur raised a brow at Lyn, though the knight from the Vale only scoffed. He wasn't a humorous man and could come off quite cold at times. Jaime wasn’t entirely certain about Lyn, but he respected his skill in battle.

“Leave me out of your banter.” Lyn’s reply was clipped and devoid of mirth. He crossed his arms and stared ahead blankly.

Not willing to let the assignment go, Jaime pressed Barristan. “If Ser Arthur enjoys playing with the children and getting a break from leaning against a wall, I’ll switch shifts with him.”

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “You’ll guard the girl per our standard rotation.” 

Jaime grumbled to himself. Before Tywin left, he approached Jaime about winning the young girl over.  _ ‘When she’s grown, she’ll need a husband. Play your foolish games now, but you will wed her once she flowers. Stay on the king’s good side, and be kind to the child.’ _

Tywin’s direction had come two days after Cersei’s orders. It was evident that Cersei planted the idea in Tywin’s mind, just as she had planted the seeds for Jaime’s appointment to the Kingsguard. 

With a resigned sigh, Jaime held his tongue on the matter. Unlike Viserys, Selwyn’s daughter didn’t seem troublesome or problematic. What limited exposure Jaime had to her, she seemed a quiet child and an easy assignment. 

Before his shift began, Jaime sought out Genna. He was pleased to have his aunt in the city, but he worried about the predicament she found herself in. Tywin enjoyed nothing more than using his family members as cyvasse pieces. He moved them into position to further his own power and desires. They were not people to him so much as opportunities. 

When Genna opened her bedchamber door and noted it was Jaime, the tension left her shoulders. Jaime stepped inside and turned to greet Genna, but her hands were already at his ears. “My favorite Kingsguard. Look at you in your armor.”

Jaime bit back the yelp threatening to escape as she pulled on his earlobes. Only Genna could get away with such a thing. For all she had done to support their family when Joanna died, Jaime would forever bend to her requests. She was the closest that Jaime had to a parent in this world. 

“Did you speak with the king about this marriage of yours?” Jaime knew of his aunt’s distaste for another political marriage. She had already done more than enough for House Lannister, and now she was being forced into another undesirable match. 

Genna pulled Jaime towards the chairs near the hearth. “Yes, and I’m pleased enough with the arrangement. Our king wants this marriage no more than I do. We’ve come to an understanding. There will be no love in this, but perhaps we can find friendship. Of course, your father can’t seem to decide what he wants of me. First he wanted an heir immediately. Now he threatens to lop off my head if I dare birth a babe; particularly a boy.”

Jaime grumbled at the information. He hated all of it. First, that Genna would be expected to live a loveless life purely for Tywin’s political gain. Second, that Genna would be denied opportunity to have more children. Jaime knew that the loss of Cleos and Lyonel hurt Genna greatly, but he was uncertain if she wished for more children. 

“What do you want?” Jaime stared at his aunt and watched as she fidgeted with her skirts. 

“What I want means little in this world.” The irritation in Genna’s voice was clear. Still, Jaime pressed her.

“Well I wish to know. Do you want a husband and… children?” Glancing at Genna through his lashes, Jaime watched as pain shone in her eyes.

“My sons are dead. A child can no sooner be replaced than a lost limb. I suppose that if I  _ had  _ found love in a second marriage, I might want another babe. Not to replace, but to love as any other child. It matters little though. I’ll spoil any babes you give our family someday. If your father has it his way, your match has some years before she’s capable of bestowing such a blessing upon us.”

Jaime rolled his eyes in reply. “I’m a Kingsguard. Marriage is not an option.”

A hum of amusement reached Jaime’s ears and she raised a brow. “Strange. Your sister and father seemed to think otherwise. Be careful who you share information with if you don’t want it dictating your life.”

_ Seven hells. I told Cersei the changes to my vows would not be public knowledge.  _

“Enough about all that. Tell me how you are, Jaime. I worry about you.” Genna’s eyes searched Jaime’s. She always had a way of exposing suppressed emotions and painful admissions from him. With a heavy sigh, Jaime played at indifference.

“I’m fine. My role is quite simple compared to yours.”

Genna snorted. When she spoke her tone was laced with offense. “I am not your father, and I do not appreciate the implication that I would fall for such nonsense. You’re troubled. I can see it on your face and I can see it in how you carry yourself. I’m afraid to think on what Aerys has done to you.”

Aerys. That name. Jaime hated it, and the name carried a weight of emotions that Jaime wished to carve out with his blade. Shaking his head, Jaime looked away. He took a steadying breath to compose himself. 

“It’s in the past. I’m fine, and I do not wish to discuss it.”

Genna leaned forward and grabbed Jaime’s arm. Resisting the urge to yank it away, Jaime stared at the hearth. “I don’t care what nonsense my brother put in your head. Emotions are not a weakness, and you’ll do yourself no good bottling it up. It will break you. I’m not going anywhere, Jaime. You’re stuck with me now, and you know how persistent I can be.”

Standing from the chair quickly, Jaime spoke sarcastically. “I have to go guard my future bride.” 

The words held a bitter edge. Jaime knew that he would never swear vows to a woman he didn’t love. He would never swear vows to any woman who wasn’t Cersei. Moving towards the door, Genna called out. 

“Jaime.” Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime met his aunt’s eyes. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become; not the man Tywin wants you to be.”

Leaving before he could become emotional, Jaime nodded and closed the door behind him. He moved quickly through the corridor to find the young girl he was charged with guarding. While Jaime didn’t consider himself an expert on young children, he did recognize the girl as awkward. 

She was unnaturally tall for her age. She had pale, freckled skin, lips too big for her face, and an awkward frame. Considering her appearance, Jaime wondered if that was why she seemed shy. He wondered at what age a child became aware of their own appearance.

Cersei had always been aware of her beauty, and by consequence, Jaime’s. They were raised knowing that they were superior to other Houses. Their beauty, wealth, and power was unrivaled by others. As a boy, there was no shortage of young girls at court who reddened in Jaime’s presence. They batted their eyes and looked him over approvingly. His eyes were never for them, however. 

Only one girl caught some interest from Jaime. Melara. It saddened Jaime to learn of her tragic accident at a well near the Keep. While he never envisioned marrying her, Jaime did find the young girl intriguing.

When Jaime came upon Brienne, she was with her Septa in the gardens. The older woman did not strike Jaime as a patient woman. Jaime mused that she had been given the unenviable task of making the rambunctious girl of nearly five into something more presentable at court. At least that day, Brienne was wearing a dress. Prior days, Jaime had snorted at the sight of her in boy’s attire.

Brienne was crouched awkwardly over her embroidery. Her needlework was clumsy and she stabbed her fingers multiple times on the passthrough. Jaime recalled Cersei forcing him to trade places with her in youth. Until they were eight or nine, they could get away with it. Once their bodies began changing, it became impossible. 

The septa swatted Brienne’s bumbling hands with a ruler. It wasn’t enough to cause injury, but it made Brienne flinch. “Did you hear me!? Too far apart!”

Jaime startled at the reprimand. His sister’s septa was never a tender woman, but even Cersei was spared the ruler. It wasn’t an uncommon form of correction, but for Great Houses, it was rare. “Do you think the stitching will be better if you’re whacking her about with a stick?”

The woman glared at Jaime. “I wasn’t aware that Kingsguard were meant to offer advice while on duty.”

“I wasn’t aware one could teach a child to sew while hitting her hands with a stick. Seems a bit counterproductive.”

Both Brienne and the septa appeared surprised by his judgmental tone. The older woman narrowed her eyes and scoffed. “I know what’s best for her. Let me do my job, and you stand there doing yours.”

“My job is to guard her and protect her from harm. If you do your job properly, I won’t need to intercede.” Jaime clutched the hilt of his sword and offered his most cutting smile. 

The Septa stood abruptly. Her face reddened with rage and she shoved her own needlework against Jaime’s armor. “You think you know best? Enjoy.”

Without another word, the woman stormed away in a huff. A loud guffaw pushed past his lips as Roelle left in a swirl of skirts. “What a treasure she is.” The words were muttered and more to himself than Brienne. 

When Jaime turned back towards Brienne, he watched as she dutifully resumed her needlework. Septa's comment had not been wrong, but her method of delivery was awful. “She has the right of it. The stitches are too far apart.”

The girl looked up at Jaime with big blue eyes. “I’m not very good at it.”

_ No. I can see that. _

“Well you’re quite young. I don’t recall my sister starting these lessons until five.”  _ And by consequence, me.  _

Brienne only shrugged in reply. “I’ll be five soon enough, and if I can’t stitch, I’ll never make a match.”

Jaime snorted. “You’re four. Why would you bother worrying over such things? You should be playing or getting into trouble.”

“My Septa says it's important. I’m already doing everything else wrong.” The young girl didn’t sound upset as she spoke; only matter of fact. It struck Jaime odd that a four-year-old could worry over such things, but he sighed and threw the Septa’s needlework on the table. 

Jaime reached for Brienne’s embroidery and tugged it away. “Look, you’re making the stitch too far apart. Turn it around like this.” Poking the needle through the fabric, Jaime demonstrated the closer stitch. 

The girl watched intently as though committing the exact movement to memory. She struck Jaime as a serious child with a hint of perfectionism. Brienne’s fingers were covered in needle jabs. The sight reminded Jaime of his first attempts when taking Cersei’s place. His sister had been livid that night.  _ “You got blood all over my embroidery! Now it’s ruined.” _

When Jaime gave the embroidery back to Brienne, he stepped back against the rock wall and sat down. Sighing heavily, Jaime glanced around the area. He longed to be in the yards sparring. Even standing guard with one of his sworn brothers would be better than this misery.

For nearly another hour, Brienne worked at her embroidery. An attendant soon approached and caught her attention. She leapt to her feet eagerly as though awaiting the greatest news of her life. With a polite smile, the page bowed. 

“Princess Brienne. Your father apologizes, but he’s in a meeting and can’t meet you for lunch today.” 

Her face immediately fell along with her shoulders. Nodding in understanding, Brienne forced a smile. “Yes, of course.”

_ There goes my chance at standing guard with my sworn brothers while father and daughter eat. Lovely.  _

In truth, Jaime rarely saw Selwyn with his daughter. It didn’t strike Jaime odd given Aerys never took meals with his children. Tywin certainly never took meals with him. The thought always rankled Jaime. If he had children, he would enjoy taking meals with them.

Glancing around the area, Brienne seemed to be searching for someone or something. She looked at Jaime and spoke cautiously. “Are you guarding me all day?”

“Until supper at least.” 

The young girl hummed and looked around once more. “Will you eat lunch with me?”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head in refute. “That isn’t how it works.”

Confusion stretched across her features. “You don’t eat?”

The innocence of her question was amusing. Of course he ate, but the Kingsguard didn’t eat  _ with  _ their sovereigns and children. “I eat, but I don’t eat with those I’m meant to be guarding.”

On occasion, the brothers had eaten with Rhaegar if he took lunch in the city. Jaime was ordinarily not allowed to join them as he was always at Aerys' side. 

“So you eat alone?” 

Jaime shrugged at the question. “When I’m on guard duty.”

“I eat alone too.”

Turning to appraise the young girl, Jaime noted the sorrow in her eyes. He recalled that she had an older brother at one point, but the sea claimed him. “You should make some friends with the other children.”

As was the case at the Rock, some members of court often brought their children to the Red Keep. The children formed a close group, and it was how Jaime made friends in his youth. His closest friend, Addam Marbrand, had been a page at the Rock, but the other children were members of court and always eager to run around the grounds with Jaime.

Without replying, Brienne began walking away from the table. Jaime grumbled and followed her movements. The young girl’s legs moved quickly from the space and down the pathway towards the Keep. Her arm reached out and grabbed a flower from a vine as she passed. 

When the path came to an end, Brienne turned left towards the yards rather than continue into the Keep. Jaime could hear the familiar clang of steel and his hand twitched at his side. The young girl moved faster as though fearful the match would be over before she arrived. As her feet neared the edge of the yards, Brienne leapt onto the rock wall surrounding the space. 

Standing at her back, Jaime watched the match in the distance. Two Gold Cloaks were circling one another and fighting sloppily. Jaime groaned inwardly at the men’s movements. They were far from fluid, and their swordplay left much to be desired. 

Brienne glanced over her shoulder and spoke quietly. “I hope you’re better than that.”

The words produced a loud laugh from Jaime.  _ Even a four-year-old finds this showing pitiful.  _

At Jaime’s outburst, the men stilled and glanced over. They bowed their heads at Brienne, and she waved as though she knew them. For the first time that day, her eyes sparkled. She glanced back at Jaime and spoke inquiringly. “Can you spar them both at once?”

Jaim raised a brow. “I’m guarding you.”

“I’ll not tell.” Brienne glanced back at the men and called out. “Can Ser Jaime play?”

_ Play? Gods, this child. She’ll get me in trouble. _

The Gold Cloaks glanced warily at Jaime. “You… wish for us to spar Ser Jaime?”

Jaime leaned forward and tried to suggest they return to the Keep, but Brienne was committed to the request. “Are you afraid to? He won’t hurt you.”

Jaime guffawed at the words, but the men did not share in his mirth. They narrowed their eyes and shrugged. One of the men raised a brow. “I’m not worried about all that. I’ll fight him.”

Begrudgingly, Jaime moved towards the men. He unsheathed his blade and smirked when they lined up across from him and raised their blades. The pair of Gold Cloaks whispered to one another about a strategy for attack. Abruptly, one of the men surged forward and swiped from Jaime’s right. 

The men were less impressive than Jaime initially gave them credit. He spun around them easily and won several matches in rapid succession. A voice from the edge of the training yard called out mockingly. 

“Gods you’re both awful! Getting beat by one man.”

Jaime glanced over and saw a third Gold Cloak watching the match. From a few feet away, Brienne spoke confidently. “He’ll beat you too.”

Laughter bubbled in Jaime’s chest at her boldness. The man did not take offense, but only chuckled. “You think so, princess? Three of us against him?”

“He’s a Kingsguard.” The reply made the man’s question sound absurd. In her innocence, Brienne assumed the White Cloak meant a knight could handle any number of assailants. 

With an exaggerated bow, the man entered the fray with an amused smile on his face. Appraising the stance of the third man, Jaime could see that he was more skilled than his comrades. Jaime used the first two as a shield while studying the third. 

Jaime’s blood was singing as he felt more of a challenge with the third man added. In between matches, he considered that if guarding Brienne served as a way to spar more, he wouldn’t mind it so much. 

For another hour, Jaime enjoyed sparring the three men. Brienne cheered them on excitedly from her perch atop the rockwall. As the men began to fatigue, a familiar voice called out. “Only three? Have you gone soft, Lannister?”

Jaime glanced at Ser Arthur and smirked. The Gold Cloaks limped away and waved them off. The man who had mocked his peers only an hour earlier, grumbled as they went. He bowed towards Brienne and smiled. “I draw the line at Ser Arthur. Sorry, princess.” 

As the men left, Arthur raised an amused brow. “Well this is a very interesting approach to guard duty.”

“She made me.” Jaime inclined his chin at Brienne.

“Blame the four-year-old. Lovely.” Arthur stepped into the yard and unsheathed his sword. At the movement, Brienne clapped excitedly. 

“Beat him, Ser Arthur!”

_ What!? Traitor.  _

Jaime gawked at Brienne and shrugged. “You’re cheering for him now? I helped you with your embroidery.”

With a victorious smile, Arthur raised his blade high. “Your vows are to obey, not question, remember? My Little Flower has excellent taste in knights.”

Jaime’s heart began to hammer as Arthur lined up opposite him. Before Aerys' death, the brothers did not often train with him. Since then, Barristan, Arthur, and Jon had spent time with Jaime in the yards. Both Barristan and Arthur gave Jaime a sound beating and he lived for it. Just having the opportunity to spar his idols was incredible, but to watch them spar was an altogether different experience. 

Arthur and Barristan were evenly matched with standard steel. With Dawn in hand, Arthur had the edge. While Jaime could best Jon, he had yet to earn a victory over Barristan or Arthur. He hoped to get a crack at the Blackfish soon too.

They circled one another for some time before their blades came together. Jaime’s arms shook at the impact and his eyes went wide as they parried. The match was exhilarating, though Arthur beat him soundly. They squared off several more times until an angry voice captured their attention. Septa Roelle came storming towards the yards and yanked Brienne by the arm.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! This is unbecoming of a young lady.” 

“Stop!” Arthur stomped towards the woman with his sword still in hand. Pointing the tip of his blade at Roelle, Arthur spoke warningly. “Easy with her! That’s your future queen!” 

Jaime followed at Arthur’s heels; his eyes narrowed at the woman that he was growing less and less fond of by the hour. 

“She’ll certainly not fit the role if she keeps this up. You won’t help her by allowing such behavior.” The woman spoke indignantly as her face set into a deep scowl. 

Arthur stepped inches before the woman; his tone challenging. “And what will you teach her? Cruelty? I think there’s been quite enough of that.”

“I’ve been instructing this girl since she was a babe. You think her a good child? Well-disciplined? It’s because of my effort. King Selwyn has not had a single issue with my raising of the child. You needn’t interfere now.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “Or perhaps she is good  _ despite  _ you. Shall we ask his Grace for an opinion on the matter? I’m intrigued to learn how he’ll respond to hearing that you’re yanking her about.”

“And knocking her hands with a ruler.” Jaime chimed in from Arthur’s side. 

The Septa hesitated before putting an arm around Brienne and guiding her inside. Without taking his eyes off the Septa, Arthur spoke commandingly at Jaime. “Keep an eye on her. If she says or does anything else, we inform his Grace. There is something about that woman that doesn’t sit right.”


	13. Barristan II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genna needs something from Barristan, and he isn't fond of it.

It was the tenth moon of 284ac. Nearly two moons had passed since Selwyn’s coronation. The small council had been busy tending to long-neglected areas under Aerys’ rule. To bring the kingdoms together, Selwyn wanted to hold a tourney in King’s Landing, but some surprising information had come to light about the crown’s purse, or lack thereof. 

The crown was not underfunded per say, but the books were poorly maintained and significant sums of coin were missing. Selwyn had scoffed at the information. _“Missing? How does coin go missing?”_

Genna had sighed and opened the financial ledgers. _“Just look at it. The sum is off significantly, and nothing balances properly. Like here.”_ Genna pointed at two consecutive rows during the false spring. _“There is a substantial amount missing on the balance between entries. How does coin simply disappear?”_

A knowing hum from Varys had caught everyone’s attention. _“My little birds whispered of a sum in that amount which was sought by Prince Rhaegar. They claimed he secretly funded the champion’s purse at Harrenhal.”_

For nearly an hour, Genna addressed several concerns regarding the crown’s purse. It wasn't so alarming that they would struggle to fund basic needs, but the situation was far from ideal. Selwyn was dejected at the inability to host something for the people. 

That morning, Barristan had gone into the trunk at the foot of his bed. What few personal items he had to his name were stored in that chest. There weren’t many personal effects, but he had a decent amount of coin. Unlike his brothers, Barristan never spent his coin at taverns or brothels. He squirreled it away in the event it was ever needed. Given all his tourney winnings, there was a substantial amount.

Pushing past his few belongings, Barristan reached for the bag containing the winnings from the tourney at Harrenhal. He added some coin from other tourneys and kept only enough for himself. The rest he brought to Genna’s chambers.

Genna seemed surprised by his presence when Barristan knocked. When her eyes glanced inquisitively at the bag in his hand, Barristan raised it and offered a polite smile. “I thought that I might bring this back.”

When Genna took the bag, her eyes went wide as she peered inside. “You had it!? Why?”

“Well I didn’t steal it! I won it.” Barristan huffed at the implication that he could have taken it without permission. 

Understanding dawned across Genna’s features and she shoved the bag back towards Barristan. “Then there is no need to return it. You won it.”

“I hadn’t realized the prince funded the tourney. It seems the crown could use this. I don’t know if he did the same for the other tourneys, so I put that coin in here too.”

Genna raised a brow as though he’d gone mad. “And why don’t you use it?”

“What for? Anything I require is provided by the crown.” Barristan and his brothers were not afforded pay for service, but the crown took care of their basic needs. Most of Barristan’s sworn brothers used coin sent from kin or tourney winnings to fund drinks and entertainment in the city. 

Genna snorted and shook her head. “I’ve seen those awful rooms you’re afforded. Terribly dreary. Certainly you could use it to purchase something more pleasing on the eye.”

 _Pleasing on the eye?_ Barristan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m not hosting guests in my room. It’s a sleeping cell.”

An unimpressed expression lined Genna’s face in reply. “Well then get yourself some new clothing. Those outfits you all wear are dreadful.”

Barristan scoffed. “Those _outfits_ are our uniforms. We’re provided them by the crown.”

“Not if I can help it! It’s the first thing that I aim to change.” Genna sighed and took the bag of coins from Barristan. She dropped the bag onto the table before returning to the door. Barristan’s brows furrowed as he considered her words. 

_I don’t want her changing anything. I like the Kingsguard the way it is. She and Selwyn are ruining it all._

“You’ll return for the coin later. It’s yours; not the crown’s. Walk with me, Ser Barristan. I have questions to ask you.” Grabbing Barristan’s arm, Genna tugged him down the hallway. 

For someone who hadn’t been in King’s Landing that long, Genna seemed to know everyone they passed. She called out with a warm greeting and smile. Many of the faces Barristan recognized, but the names eluded him. He was merely pleased that he could remember the names of his sworn brothers and council members. 

“Where are we going?” Barristan glanced as they walked. They seemed to be heading towards the gardens, but Barristan didn’t understand why.

Genna sighed and shook her head. “Do you have to be so difficult about everything?”

“I'm not difficult.” Barristan glanced at Genna as they walked. His brows furrowed and his features scrunched in offense. 

Without even meeting his eyes, Genna chuckled and shook her head. “You’re _always_ disagreeing with me and everyone else in small council. You’re quite set in your ways. You won't die if we go on a little walk. I have some things to ask of you.”

_I’m not set in my ways. I appreciate tradition, though apparently I’m the only one._

As they stepped outside, Genna glanced in multiple directions before tugging Barristan down a garden path. She found a bench that was shaded by some overgrowth from a nearby tree. Sitting down, Genna patted the space beside her expectantly. 

“I need your help with Jaime.” Genna spoke brusquely and met Barristan’s eyes. The urge to laugh was difficult to suppress. 

_Only a Lannister would request aid in such a rude tone as though the act of asking was below them._

Taking a seat, Barristan huffed and crossed his arms. “Are you going to ask me to release him from his vows? It isn’t within my authority to do so, and Selwyn already offered several times.”

Genna huffed in annoyance and shook her head. “It isn’t anything like that. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t seem right.” Genna gestured at her head as though explanation enough. “Something is troubling him.”

Barristan exhaled forcefully and looked away. It felt a betrayal to his sworn brother to discuss such things, but Barristan knew that Jaime was struggling. In truth, all of them who had served under Aerys were struggling, but Barristan believed that Jaime had suffered the most. 

He had been too young to experience such horrors. When Jaime joined the Kingsguard, Barristan had never seen a boy so excited. The way his eyes looked to them in awe; as though they were some ethereal beings. They were merely flawed men staunchly holding to their vows. 

At the time, Barristan wouldn’t concede that. It took living through the rebellion for the veil to be lifted from his eyes. Now he felt awful for it. They were not protective with Jaime as they should have been, nor were they loyal to their oaths as knights. 

“It isn’t my place to discuss what goes on in the White Sword Tower.” Barristan couldn’t look Genna in the eyes. He felt badly for saying it, and he wished to be of aid, but he couldn’t speak about Jaime without his consent. 

Genna snarled at his side. “Not your place to discuss? Like it wasn’t your place to stop that madman earlier? My nephew of seven-and-ten had to do what men long grown could not!”

Barristan didn’t need Genna speaking of his failures. They haunted him as it was. “Correct! We failed where he succeeded. That doesn’t mean I’ll betray his confidence.” 

“So you concede that something is wrong, and yet you won’t help me? You failed him before, and now you mean to fail him again?” The words hurt to hear, but they were not inaccurate. Barristan was trying in his own way, but he was uncertain how best to help the boy. As it was, Barristan didn’t feel equipped to help himself. 

Barristan wrung his hands and spoke with frustration heavy in his tone. “I’m trying.”

“Well try harder!” Genna growled the words before leaning back against the bench. “Why will no one tell me what happened here!?”

The question alone caused past hauntings to cloud Barristan’s vision. He was better at compartmentalizing it than Jaime and some of his sworn brothers, but he wasn’t immune to it. His stomach turned at the memories. It was as though every execution in the throne room played out before him as he stared ahead blankly. 

When the darkness came at night, Jaime’s screams didn’t always rouse Barristan from sleep. Many nights, he was already awake and staring at the ceiling. He could still hear Aerys’ maddened voice calling for more fire. The smells and screams never faded with time. 

Often when Barristan followed Selwyn into the throne room, he could still smell the stench of the deceased. The rugs and banners stunk of death and burnt skin. A strong breeze cutting through the throne room would send the otherwise dormant smells straight at Barristan. 

At first, Barristan worried it was only in his mind; that he was slowly going mad like Aerys. Then he saw Jon, Arthur, and Jaime react to it as well. No one else seemed to notice however, which was both comforting and alarming. 

Jaime always went distant in certain locations throughout the keep; the throne room being among them. His entire face paled and his eyes went dull as though he was somewhere else. It was in such a state that Barristan often found Jaime while they served under Aerys. 

Wherever Jaime retreated mentally, Barristan wished to follow. He tried to ignore Aerys, but at times, it was difficult. _‘Tell me, Selmy. Do all Stormlanders smell like that when they burn? How does burning wheat smell? Ha!’_

“Barristan! Ser Barristan!” Genna’s voice cut through the memories and her hand was shaking his arm. 

Glancing to his left, Barristan felt confused. The sounds, smells, and visions were lifted like fog clearing. “What?”

Genna’s eyes were wide. She stared at him in horror, but offered no context for whatever he missed. “Seven help me. It’s all of you.”

“What? What’s all of us?”

Genna ignored the question and turned away. She seemed to struggle with something; her eyes squinting into the distance. When she turned back to face Barristan, her face softened and her voice was calmer. 

“If you won’t tell me, can you please talk to him? The pair of you. Just try.” Genna’s voice was desperate. The request was reasonable, but Barristan hated it nonetheless. He cringed and glanced away. 

_Seven hells. What am I to say to the boy?_

“I’ll try.”

The response seemed to satisfy Genna. “Perhaps we can walk regularly. I just want to know that he is well and hear how he is doing. You don’t have to share what you discuss, but if I try to approach him, he gets annoyed.”

Agreeing to take walks together would make it impossible to avoid honoring the request. He would have to talk to Jaime, or Genna would know that he hadn’t. Barristan was a shit liar, and he refused to do so on principle. “Very well.”

It was a week before Barristan finally spoke to Jaime about Aerys. Of course, having a conversation in the middle of the night had not been Barristan’s plan, but neither were the circumstances. 

The nightmare that awoke Jaime left the young knight in a sweat. He had tried to reach for a weapon upon waking as though the threat was still present. Jaime fell from the bed as he tried to scramble for his sword, and Barristan pinned him down to prevent any bloodshed.

“Jaime! Stop! It’s over.” Barristan put up defensive hands as he released Jaime. The younger knight’s panicked eyes searched the dimly lit room. For some weeks, Barristan had evaded the staff’s requests to move his room to the top floor. It seemed the least he could do for Jaime was wake him from the visions that haunted his dreams. Now Barristan wondered if he would ever leave his current room. 

In truth, Barristan cared little for the larger space afforded by his elevated position. For half of his life, Barristan slept in the room next to Jaime’s. Nothing changed over the years except the kings and sworn brothers surrounding him. As Jaime composed himself, he apologized as he always did. 

Barristan shook his head and sat on the floor beside Jaime. “What was the dream about?”

“Just… the same type of things. I’m sorry that I keep waking you. Perhaps I should sleep somewhere else.”

Attempting to make Jaime feel better, Barristan spoke lightly. “You’re better than the last sworn brother that I shared a wall with. Ser Harlan used to stumble into my room some nights thinking it the privy. In his advanced years, he forgot many things and confused easily.”

Jaime snorted at the words. “I’ll try my best not to use you as a chamber pot.” 

“Thank you. Very considerate.” Barristan smirked. A momentary silence passed between them before Barristan’s lips turned down. “I don’t know how to make them stop. The nightmares that is. I’ve found that only time helps.”

The words caught Jaime by surprise. His eyes filled with hope as he turned to appraise Barristan. “You had them too?”

“Not about Aerys, but other things.” The room seemed to darken at the admission. Barristan never spoke of the things that haunted his dreams. Unlike Aerys, they were not shared traumas. 

Jaime studied Barristan for a moment before he questioned him further. “What were yours about?”

Barristan didn’t want to discuss that. He grimaced and glanced away. Shaking the vision from his mind, he glanced back at Jaime. “Yours first.” 

“In my dreams, I don’t stop Rossart in time. I’m too distracted by everything. I hear Rhaella’s screams down one hallway. Down another hallway I see Rickard burning while Brandon struggles to get to him. Down another hallway I hear the princesses...” Jaime glanced cautiously at Barristan as the reference to Elia and Ashara hung between them. It was something else that Barristan never spoke of, but a vision that haunted him daily. 

Barristan hated standing guard outside Selwyn’s chambers. It was only a few doors away from where Barristan found Ashara. Trying to offer reassurance to Jaime that he wasn’t alone, Barristan supplied his own hauntings in the Keep. “I see _that_ the most. Not in my dreams. When I’m awake and standing guard at the king’s door. Near _that_ room.”

Jaime cringed. “The throne room is the worst for me. They need new… everything.”

“Perhaps they should make Tarth the capital. An island would be much nicer. No shit memories.” It was wishful thinking and nothing more. Before Barristan could reflect further on such peace, Jaime spoke quietly. 

“Can you still smell it too? The flesh burning.”

At the mere mention of it, Barristan could conjure the scent. “Every day. The stormy days are the worst when the sea breeze kicks it all up.” 

Jaime sighed and glanced towards the window. A momentary silence fell over them. “I thought I was the only one.”

“Arthur and Jon too. Sometimes I wonder if it’s truly there, or just brought on by vivid memories. Perhaps it’s like muscle memory with the sword. I don’t even have to think about it sometimes.” Barristan’s arm moved from right to left as though holding a sword in hand. 

Jaime hummed in reply. “What were your nightmares about?”

The inquiry was fair, but Barristan had rather hoped to avoid the topic. That memory never dulled with time. The nightmares only stopped after the War of the Ninepenny Kings, but the images never faded. 

“My father fought in the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion. He fought for the crown of course. Do you know where Harvest Hall is?” 

At the mention of House Selmy’s seat, Jaime glanced at him and nodded. “The Stormlands.”

“Yes. More specifically, in the Dornish Marches. Quite the location to sit between three kingdoms that despise each other; particularly Dorne and the Reach. Did you know that House Yronwood fought for the Blackfyres in three of the five wars?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed, though he nodded slowly. “I recall Ser Brynden mentioning as much at Riverrun when I was younger.”

Barristan tried to calm his emotions as the memory played out in his mind. “My House was just a family of landed knights, but we were raised to Marcher Lords after my father killed Lord Yronwood’s eldest son and heir in that battle. House Yronwood never forgot that. When Lord Yronwood’s next son came of age, they attacked Harvest Hall to seek vengeance. It was the middle of the night, and my father was _away_ ...” _Visiting the brothels or the tavern._

The vision was always clear, and the fear of that night squeezed Barristan’s chest as it had that night. “I was five at the time, and I remember waking up to chaos. The staff was screaming. My mother had me hide under the bed, but my brother wouldn’t stop crying. He was only three and she tried to calm him, but it was no use. Before she could get him hidden with me, they came into the room. She was crouched beside my brother, and I watched them shove a sword through her head. She was about… seven moons pregnant. Then they killed my brother and I just stayed hidden. I was not bold that night.”

Barristan hated himself for not acting as an aspiring knight should. He had wanted to be brave like his father, but he wasn’t allowed a proper blade at that age. Not until after that night. Barristan had vowed to himself to never be afraid again. To always be brave, and to protect the innocent. To be a good knight. _If I had just been a better knight…_

He hadn’t been a better knight when Aerys went mad. Jaime was. Barristan stood there with the rest of his sworn brothers and did nothing as injustices happened. When the crown’s men executed House Baratheon in a similar fashion to House Yronwood’s actions at Harvest Hall, Barristan could only rage at Ser Gerold. Then Barristan walked into a room with Amory and saw a similar scene playing out; Rhaenys hiding under the bed as Ashara was killed. It was how he thought to look for the princess under the beds. 

In his nightmares, Barristan remembered his mother’s body twitching as life left her and blood flowed down the floor. He remembered being afraid to move, so he sat there watching the blood move towards him like the sea coming in at high tide. Barristan remembered his brother’s screams the moment it happened. Then he remembered the silence. 

For what felt an eternity, Barristan refused to move from under the bed. Silent tears streamed down his face as his mother’s blood pooled under his chest. When the blood turned cold on his clothing and skin, his father stumbled into the Keep drunk and disheveled. Barristan was given a sword and lance the next day.

When the last of the Blackfyres returned to wage war, Barristan prayed to the gods that House Yronwood would be so foolish as to back them once more. Instead, they sat out of the war. Barristan cut a gruesome path straight at Maelys the Monstrous. 

In the moment, it felt as though the man embodied all of House Yronwood in addition to the Blackfyres. Barristan was three-and-twenty, and the act earned him a spot on the Kingsguard. If Barristan ever saw House Yronwood oppose him on the field of battle in his lifetime, he would consider it a blessed day.

Jaime stared at Barristan; his jaw slack and his eyes wide. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Awful things happen everyday. The real nightmare would be if you hadn’t been the truest knight of us all. I only pray the visions will leave you with time.” 

_I’ll not tell him the full truth of it. The nightmares stopped, but the memories never fade._

They sat in companionable silence for some time. Barristan didn’t remember falling asleep, but it was Arthur who woke them up. Jaime and Barristan were asleep on the floor with their backs pressed together. When Barristan opened his eyes and tried to blink back the haze, a pair of violet eyes came into view. For a moment, Barristan startled thinking it Aerys.

“Woah. Easy. Are the pair of you having a party without me?” A small smirk tugged at Arthur’s lips as he hovered over Barristan.

“What?” Barristan sat upright and saw Jaime asleep at his side and facing the opposite wall. “I fell asleep.”

“Yes, well I had to drag Ser Jonothor back from the tavern before he drowned in his ale. He seems to think this is his room now.” Arthur’s shoulders shook with laughter and he inclined his towards the bed.

True to Arthur’s words, Jon was passed out, face down on Jaime’s bed. Barristan, Jaime, and Jon occupied the three sleeping cells on the third floor of the tower. Arthur, Byrnden, and Lyn slept in the three on the second floor. For as much as Jon could drink over the years, he never became so drunk that he confused Jaime’s room, once Harlan’s, with his own.

_It’s getting worse. He needs to stop._

“Where is he even getting the coin for it all?” Barristan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“His kin. I don’t know what he told them that caused them to send so much, but he has a good amount left.” Arthur reached down to help Barristan up. 

Jolts of pain coursed through Barristan from the uncomfortable position on the floor. Barristan grimaced and tried to rub away the stiffness in his limbs. At his struggle, Arthur snorted.

“So not only do you refuse that fancy apartment in the sky, but you prefer floors now. You and the boy it seems.”

Barristan huffed and glanced down at Jaime. “We were sitting. Must have fallen asleep. Listen, don’t take Jon to the gods damned tavern. If we give him no one to go with, he might stop.”

“You think he invited me? I was already there and he stumbled in.” 

That information was surprising to Barristan. Arthur, like Barristan, was not much of a drinker. What little he did drink was more in response to the demands of Rhaegar and his sworn brothers. It was the only time Barristan drank too. 

Rhaegar had an infectious personality and the young prince had enjoyed a good time among the commonfolk. He would often journey into the city to sing in the streets and see how much coin he could make. Any earnings were used to treat the Kingsguard to a tankard in the city. 

“Why were you there?” At Barristan’s question, Arthur’s eyes darted away awkwardly and amusement left his tone.

“I was showing Lady Lyanna around. It was the knightly thing to do.”

A knowing smirk tugged at Barristan’s lips. Arthur and Lyanna had been spending a good amount of time together. It started in the training yards when the young lady challenged him to a duel. Of course, she lost several times over, but Barristan noted the way the pair looked at one another.

Arthur glanced at Jaime and rolled his eyes. Nudging the young knight with his toe, Arthur tried to wake him. “Young lion. The sun is rising and we’ve a shift to get to.”

Jaime’s eyes fluttered open, and he appeared as confused as Barristan had felt only moments earlier. He sat upright and noted Jon in his bed. “Why…”

“Apparently everyone is much more comfortable in your quarters. Very inconsiderate of you all not to invite me. I’m stuck with the new brothers a level down, and they're not as entertaining.”

_No. Not in the slightest. Far too stable and dependable._

Jaime righted himself and sighed. “Thank the gods I wasn’t in the bed.”

“Come on. Lets go guard the king. Though I imagine he is in a similar state as Ser Jon.” Arthur shoved Jaime’s sword belt against his chest and pushed the younger knight towards the door. The armory was on the lower level and held the rest of their things, but Barristan preferred keeping his armor in his room.

At the reference to Selwyn’s shared habits with Jon, Barristan cringed. Selwyn was already proving a strong sovereign, but he, like Jon, seemed to have unhealthy coping mechanisms. The king struggled with the loss of his wife and three children. While he never became drunk during court or small council, he would indulge at night or before emotionally draining events such as the Coronation.

Barristan was once more reminded of his father’s reliance on the drink which worsened as the years went. He was never a faithful man to his wife. They wed out of duty; not love. Barristan’s father, Lyonel, had loved another in youth, but the woman was too far above his station. Over the years, Lyonel drank away his sorrows and traumas from the battlefield. When he wed, Lyonel continued to visit the brothels despite his wife’s pregnancies and loneliness. 

Barristan hated it, and he hated how despondent his mother always seemed. He swore to never enter into a marriage where love did not exist on both sides. He had seen first hand the damage caused by arranged marriages. It was the reason for his own broken betrothal. 

After breaking his fast, Barristan worked in his study for some time until a knock came at the door. “Yes.”

_By the gods, if this is Jon…_

Barristan glanced up from the stack of papers at his desk and prepared to give Jon a verbal lashing for his behavior at the tavern. While Barristan would never prevent his sworn brothers from enjoying time in the city, they were Kingsguard and needed to conduct themselves accordingly. Further, it was unsafe to allow Jon to drown in his sorrows when he was expected to be alert and on guard to keep the king safe. There would need to be a serious discussion about Jon’s choices.

When the visitor entered the room, Barristan was surprised to see Genna. “You’re late!”

Barristan’s brows furrowed at the accusation. “I’m late?”

“Our walk! You committed to taking them weekly, and I said we would meet at this hour. I had to walk all this way to you! Not very chivalrous.”

“What? I don't recall discussing the hour nor the day.” Barristan placed the quill down that he had been writing with. Standing from the desk, he rounded it and stood before Genna. 

Her eyes were narrowed in accusation as he approached. The green of her eyes shone brightly in the well-lit room, and they made Barristan falter. He had always been captivated by unique and bright eye color. Ashara’s had been a stunning violet, and his first love, his former betrothed, had a bright blue pair that sparkled when she laughed. 

Genna was in a green dress that made her eyes stand out more than usual. Her long, golden hair was in flowing curls rather than the usual tight braids she wore during council. She was a curvaceous woman with a bosom hard to ignore when she donned her tightly fitted dresses. 

“I told you yesterday to meet me at his hour.” Genna put her hands on her hips and raised a brow. 

“I’m sorry. I truly don’t recall.” Barristan’s brows knitted in confusion as he tried to remember such a conversation. 

“Well you were busy ignoring me and talking to Lord Stark, but I said it! You're very rude, Ser Barristan. Not knightly at all.”

_She can’t be serious. This woman is incorrigible._

Barristan began to protest the circumstances, but Genna looped her arm through Barristan’s and dragged him from the study. For a woman so much smaller than him, Genna was surprisingly strong.

She guided them to the same bench they sat on the week prior. With little preamble, Genna began hurling questions at him. “How is Jaime? Did you talk to him? Will he be alright?”

_Seven help me._

“He’ll be alright. He’s much stronger than you realize. Stronger than he should need to be at least.” Barristan sighed and glanced around the gardens. He hoped there was some hidden savior to rescue him from what was bound to be more questions from Genna. Nothing seemed to satisfy the woman’s inquisitive nature. True to expectation, Genna leaned forward and asked more questions.

“Well did you talk about Aerys or other things that happened here? Did he share if anything specific is plaguing him? Is he even happy?”

Barristan leaned forward and rubbed his face. “I talked to him about _things_. Can you just trust me in that? I’ve only had one conversation.”

“Just one!? It has been a week!” Genna scoffed and swatted Barristan’s arm. 

Barristan didn’t intend to raise his voice, but his words came out harsher than he expected. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m trying. I’ve never had these types of conversations, and I don’t like it.”

Genna hummed at Barristan’s side. “You’re not what I expected.”

Barristan stood to leave. “Sorry to disappoint…”

A hand reached up and grabbed his forearm. “Don’t be so dramatic. I just thought you and the other Kingsguard would be different.”

“Different how?” Barristan tensed in anticipation for a list of his failings. He expected Genna to challenge the core of who he was, and he hated it. He should have been braver, bolder, and better. A better Kingsguard. A better knight. A better man. 

“Less emotional.” Genna spoke the words dismissively. She shrugged as though the statement was obvious.

“What!? I’m not emotional!” The moment Barristan said the words, he realized how contradictory his tone made the refute appear. “....ordinarily.”

Genna snorted; a sly smile at her lips. Then her tone shifted and she commanded him sternly. “Sit.”

“You’re very bossy. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

Genna raised a brow challengingly. “Everyone. Now sit.”

Barristan sat down in a huff. His arms crossed in annoyance, though it felt as much for his own protection. The direction the conversation was headed unnerved him. Glancing around the gardens, Barristan observed members of court walking casually along the pathways. He envied their peaceful reflections and carefree pace.

“Tell me of Harvest Hall.” Genna stared intently at Barristan, though her tone lost it’s demanding edge.

“What? Why?” Barristan turned to meet her penetrating stare. Her eyes were bright and imploring. They unsettled Barristan and he squirmed under her gaze. 

A huff of exasperation gave reply to his question. Tilting her head, Genna continued to stare. “Can I not make idle conversation? You do possess the ability to speak, do you not?”

“Of course I can speak. I just don’t understand the question.” _What does she want from me? Where is this going? If she is attempting to criticize Harvest Hall compared to her little palace out west…_

“Which part do you not understand? The request or Harvest Hall itself? You did grow up there, did you not? Tell me of your home. Tell me of your family.” Genna shrugged as she spoke. To her, the question seemed commonplace, but to Barristan it felt exposing and he did not care for such vulnerability. The night prior had already taken a lot out of him. 

“It’s in the Dornish Marches and it produces many crops.” _Feels descriptive enough._ Barristan stared at the tree branches hanging over them. “It’s nothing like Casterly Rock, I imagine. I’m certain you have _many_ more resources.”

Genna chuckled. “You think I mean to compare resources? I’m simply curious. I’ve never been there, though I’ve not been many places south of the Westerlands. What of your kin?”

“What of them? I don’t understand what you intend to learn?” Barristan glanced back at the Keep and considered all the paperwork that needed tending. 

“Can we not get to know one another? You’re helping my nephew, and I would like to know the quality of the man influencing my nephew. You’re, what? In your forties or fifties? Are your parents alive? Siblings? Nieces and nephews?” Genna seemed as frustrated as Barristan felt.

“I’m seven-and-forty. My parents are dead, as is my brother. I have cousins there.”

Genna hummed and considered him. The appraisal made Barristan feel like a rare disease being studied by a maester. Tilting her head, Genna narrowed her eyes in contemplation. “What happened to them…. And do _not_ say they died!”

_Well that is what I was going to say. Now the surprise is ruined._

“I don’t care to talk about it.” When Genna began to protest again, Barristan used a more insistent tone. “I won’t talk about it.”

The reply did little to appease Genna’s curiosity. Judging by the expression on her face, she was more than dissatisfied. “Very well. Will you at least tell me when they died? Was it recent?”

“No, it was not recent.” Barristan’s reply was quick and Genna gave him a curious look. 

Another long hum from Genna met his reply. For a moment, neither spoke and Barristan hoped there were no more personal questions to follow. Abruptly, Genna stood and spoke quickly.

“Well I thank you for looking after Jaime. He is a fine young man, and I just want what is best for him. He’s just been alone for so long. I tried to be a mother to him when his own died, but our family can be a bit… difficult.”

Barristan tried to hide the knowing smirk threatening to stretch wide across his face. He glanced away before she could notice, but it was too late. “Oh hush up, Selmy!”

Taking a deep breath, Genna spoke seriously and at a slower clip. “I would _appreciate_ it if we could talk weekly. At this hour. On this day. Anything you’re willing to share about Jaime… or yourself. You’ll be able to help him more if you are able to heal from whatever troubles you.”

The words caught Barristan by surprise, and he began to refute them immediately. “I do not have any troubles. I’m just fine, and…”

Genna put up a hand and interrupted him. “Anything you care to discuss is fine with me. Besides, we’re to serve on small council together. It would be nice to better understand one of the most stubborn, traditional, and tense men that I’ve ever met.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide at the accusations and he began to stammer in defense of himself, but Genna was gone. She waved over her shoulder and laughed as she went. “Until next week, _Lord Commander_.”

_Annoying, rude, presumptuous, arrogant woman! Definitely Tywin’s sister!_

For the next several weeks, it was more of the same between Genna and Barristan. They disagreed on everything in council, squabbled over trivial matters during shared meals, and Genna continued to ask invasive questions during their weekly time in the gardens. Barristan hardly understood why he bothered indulging her. 

_I made a commitment and knights keep their oaths… though annoying as she is, I truly shouldn’t. The woman is beyond irritating._

As Barristan stormed towards his room in the White Sword Tower, their latest conversation from that morning in the gardens played out in his mind.

_Hours earlier_

“You’re very wound up, Barristan! When was the last time you had a good fuck?”

At Genna’s question, Barristan’s jaw went slack. His face reddened and he looked around the gardens as though the very conversation could see his head removed. “How can you ask such an inappropriate question!?”

Genna laughed loudly and clutched her chest. “Gods. You’re so damn chaste.” Then something passed over her features and she covered her mouth. “Have you ever even had sex?”

_That’s it. No more conversations. I’m done._

Barristan stood to leave, but Genna blocked his path. “Would you relax? I’m only asking. The vows are changed now.”

“Not for me they’re not! I take my vows seriously. I’ll not see them changed just because everyone else has no appreciation for tradition.”

Putting up defensive hands, Genna spoke softly and reassuringly. “I meant no offense. It just surprises me is all. You’re… well… a man.”

“I’m not interested in all that, thank you!” Barristan couldn’t help but feel defensive about the conversation. It felt as though Genna was judging his principles, and he hated it. It wasn’t as though he never thought of it. He thought of it quite a lot. 

Despite that, Barristan was a Kingsguard and the vows were all he had. The vows were his armor. If he held to his old vows, then there was no risk. Of course, it hadn’t stopped him from experiencing unrequited love twice in life, and it likely wouldn’t prevent it again. It was easier for it to be unrequited though. The vows would prevent Barristan from speaking or acting on his feelings, which would prevent the embarrassment of unreciprocated feelings.

Genna bit back a laugh and raised a brow. “Not interested in _all that_? As in not interested in fucking or not interested in ladies? It’s alright you know. I’m not one who judges, though I understand many do.”

Barristan’s jaw went slack at the question. “In…” Barristan all but whispered the next word. “ _Fucking_. I’m a Kingsguard. Sworn to chastity.”

A loud laugh startled Barristan as Genna clutched her chest and doubled over. “Perhaps someone should tell your sworn brothers that. Sworn to _chastity_ indeed.”

  
  


Now as Barristan stormed through the hall and towards his room, Jaime called out. “Ser Barristan?”

The door to Jaime’s room was ajar and he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Without wasting a moment, Barristna began venting to Jaime. “I do not care for your aunt! She is improper and rude and…” 

As Barristan spoke, Jaime covered his mouth and glanced across his room. “Yes, do go on.”

Without recognizing Jaime’s amusement, Barristan stepped into the doorway. “Oh and she’s very annoying! She criticizes me all the time, and I truly don’t know why I bother!”

“She has been annoying you?” Jaime raised a brow; his smirk growing wider with each passing moment.

“Yes! Very much so.” Barristan emphasized his words with his hands. Still, he stood in the doorway as it was improper to barge in uninvited. 

Jaime nodded slowly. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more, though her being annoying just means that she likes you. The more she annoys, the more she likes you. Isn’t that right, Aunt Genna?”

Barristan’s eyes went wide and he could feel his face flush. _Seven hells. Please let this be a jape. Please don’t let her be in that room._

The sound of a chair pushing backwards echoed off the walls of the sleeping cell. Footsteps approached the door that was obstructing full view into the room. As the door was pulled back, Genna smiled smugly.

“Hello, Lord Commander. Forgive me for intruding on your precious tower. I imagine you hate for tradition to be broken with a woman’s presence here.”

“I never once said…”

Genna cared little to hear it. She continued talking despite Barristan’s effort to correct her. “I came looking for you, but only Jaime was around. I felt badly for the conversation earlier and came with a peace offering. I know how much you like these…”

Extending her hand, Genna held out a small bowl containing candied pecans. Until Selwyn came to King’s Landing, Barristan had never before experienced any sweetening to the endless supply of walnuts, pecans, and almonds available in the Red Keep. The lord form Tarth insisted on bringing his chef from Tarth that had learned many cuisines made popular across the Narrow Sea. The candied pecans quickly became Barristan’s favorite and he couldn't get enough of them during small council meetings. 

Struggling to contain his laughter, Jaime stepped forward and grabbed Barristan’s shoulder. “Good luck. I’ve guard duty now. His Grace awaits.”

When Jaime left, Barristan felt frozen in place. He was horrified that Genna heard his outburst and frustrated words. “Apologies. That was unworthy.”

Barristan moved quickly from the room and towards his own, refusing the undeserved offering from Genna. _Dolt. This is why I prefer keeping to myself._

Stepping into his room, Barristan closed his door and removed his sword belt. Before he could divest himself of the armor, the door burst open and Genna stormed in. “You forgot your nuts.”

_Yes, come in Lady Genna. Why not?_

“No, thank you. You have them.” 

“I meant the pair between your legs. Apologies, but I don’t want those. You were quite bold until you saw me there. Go on. What else do you have to say about me?” Genna placed the bowl on the table and crossed her arms. The amusement stretching across her face sent a wave of guilt and irritation through Barristan.

“I was upset and I apologize for it.”

The corner of Genna’s lips curled up slightly. “So you _do_ have feelings? Odd. You never share them.”

“I might have overreacted.” Barristan glanced quickly at Genna before renewing his efforts to remove his armor.

A loud snort echoed off the walls of the room. “If you don’t wish to speak with me anymore, I’ll leave you be. I didn’t want Jaime to be upset with me for _mothering_ him, as he so kindly puts it. You’re probably the closest he has to a confidant, and I merely worry after him. He has only just turned eight-and-ten, and he’s not so indifferent to everything as he lets on. In truth, he’s quite sensitive. I only ask you all those personal questions because you remind me a bit of him where it concerns emotions. A bit wounded and detached. Ser Jon seems troubled, though he deals with things as Selwyn does. Ser Arthur is too busy flirting with Lady Lyanna to deal with his mess of emotions, but I see it in his eyes when he stands guard in the throne room.”

Barristan’s eyes shot to Genna. He had thought they were all better at hiding their traumas. Everyone except Jaime at least.

“We all deal with things differently, though I thought it better concealed. Apologies.”

Genna chuckled lightly and took a step closer. “You needn’t apologize for it. You’ve had more talks with Jaime.”

“Did he tell you?” Barristan risked another glance at Genna. Pulling the breastplate over his head, Barristan set it down with the rest of the armor on the floor. 

“No. I can tell. He seems better rested and in less of a foul mood. When he was a boy, I could read him the easiest. He was always seeking validation from those he respected or feared disappointing. When Tywin or knights he idolized judged him harshly, Jaime responded bitterly. He’d become snide and self-loathing. I’ve seen him training with you and Arthur. He looks happy. I’ve noticed other changes in him too.”

Barristan felt guilt return over the earliest years with Jaime. He and his sworn brothers generally ignored Jaime or thought little of him due to his age. While he felt bumbling about it, Barristan did continue efforts to talk to Jaime, though the conversations only made Barristan feel worse; his long-repressed traumas pulled forth from the recesses of his mind. After a momentary pause, Genna continued.

“I can also tell that you’ve been talking to him, because you seem far more intolerable than usual.” 

_I suppose I deserved that jab._

“Yes, well I aim to please.” Barristan sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He had been sleeping poorly in recent weeks. Like Genna, Jaime loved to talk. Once Jaime realized that Barristan would talk to him, it never ended. Despite hating how it made him feel, Barristan was pleased that Jaime seemed happier for it.

A weight pressed into the mattress at Barristan’s right side. “I’ll admit, my intentions were very selfish at first. I just wanted to see Jaime happy, and I didn’t consider what I was asking of you. Then I noticed how haunted you seemed. I blamed all of you initially, though I feel a bit badly now. I suppose I never considered that things were difficult for everyone under Aerys. Tywin simply left when he got fed up. You all endured many more years of it, and everyone stuck by the madman.” 

“Well Tywin was not sworn to him.” Barristan’s tone was defensive, though he knew there was little excuse for it. In hindsight, Barristan wished he had done something sooner. He would have gladly given his head if it meant saving those whose lives lost. House Stark. House Baratheon. Elia. Rhaenys. Aegon. Ashara. “He… slipped into it. Slowly. I despised the burnings, but I told myself the men were guilty of crimes, so to keep quiet about it. It was wrong, I know. The Starks and Baratheons though… they didn’t deserve any of it. And then… the others. I should have been a better knight.”

Genna hummed at his side. “Yes, you should have done more _then_ , but that doesn’t mean you’re a bad knight. I heard all about you while Jaime was a boy. You, the Blackfish, and Ser Arthur. Ser Duncan too, but obviously those were tales from a book. Jaime always asked the West’s knights for new stories on the rest of you living legends.”

Barristan snorted at the words. “We are hardly living legends.”

“Yes, well tell that to your sworn brother. He idolizes all of you. You should have seen the look on Jaime’s face when he told me about his knighting.” Genna chuckled and dropped her voice in a poor impersonation of Jaime. “Auntie Genna, you’ll never believe it! I fought beside Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Arthur Dayne! I managed not to die against the Smiling Knight, and Ser Arthur knighted me with Dawn! You should have seen the fight!”

Genna chuckled as she spoke. “He tried to reenact it. Poor Tyrion was made to be killed over several times as he was stuck playing the Kingswood Brotherhood.”

Barristan guffawed at the information. Strangely, he could picture it. Jaime had fought well that day, and Barristan remembered Jaime’s poor attempt at composure when Arthur knighted him.

An elbow jabbed into Barristan’s side. “Look at that. You can smile.” Genna smiled warmly at Barristan when he glanced at her. Suddenly her proximity felt very overwhelming and the conversation too cordial. 

Standing quickly, Barristan scratched his head. “I should get to some paperwork.”

Following his lead, Genna stood and walked through the door. “Don’t forget your nuts.”

Barristan huffed in annoyance. _Right back at it. She just can’t control herself for more than a moment._

Turning over her shoulder, Genna feigned offense. “The ones in the bowl, Selmy! Don’t be perverse.”


	14. Genna I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genna takes matters into her own hands where it concerns Brienne's allotted time with Selwyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will double post today (Feb 28). This is a light chapter meant to bridge the heavier one to follow (Selwyn POV). I aim to post the Selwyn POV later in the day (hopefully around midday).

Genna had been in King’s Landing for four moons, and she was exhausted. It wasn’t so much a physical exhaustion, but rather an emotional fatigue. Selwyn was not at all what Genna expected. Most noblemen Genna had been exposed to over the years were self-serving and egocentric. In contrast, Selwyn was a docile man in the body of a giant. He valued the input of everyone regardless of sex, age, or station. Genna struggled to find fault with the man, except where it concerned Brienne and his unhealthy reliance on brandy to numb the pain of his loss.

When Brienne was sent to Casterly Rock during the war, Genna took to the child immediately. Having Brienne around helped ease the pain of her own loss, and Genna was enamored by the young girl. Brienne was innocent, unassuming, adorable, and sweet. Unlike many girls born into the comforts afforded by nobility, Brienne was unassuming and kind to all. She treated the staff as though they stood on equal footing to Genna and her kin.

Of course, the young girl was not without her troubles. Genna noticed that when Septa Roelle was near, Brienne quieted and retreated into herself. Further, Brienne had experienced great loss. According to the household guards accompanying Brienne and her Septa, House Tarth had been overcome with tragedy. At the time, Genna had not considered the impact of such circumstances on her future husband, but she had reflected on how the young child before her was feeling.

Brienne was hurting, but she never complained or sought sympathy. The child spent the days staring out at the sea, struggling through her lessons, or trailing after Tyrion. Her immediate connection with Tyrion was the first indication of Brienne’s tenderheart. 

Genna had spent much of Tyrion’s life trying to soothe the young boy’s emotional pain. When others looked at Tyrion, they only saw perceived weaknesses and failures. As a dwarf, Tyrion was considered by many in Genna’s House to be unworthy of bearing the Lannister sigil. He didn’t meet the standards of perfection as required by Tywin. Lannisters were meant to be golden, beautiful, intelligent, powerful, and superior. 

Genna thought it was complete crap. Fighting over Tyrion’s worth some years prior had been the first time that Tywin and Genna came to near blows.

Like her love of Jaime, Genna adored Tyrion. He was the most like Tywin where it concerned intellect and political savvy, but where Tyrion differed were matters of the heart. Similar to Jaime, Tyrion was very sensitive. Both boys used sarcasm and humor as a way to mask their emotions and past traumas. Genna would give her life for either of the boys, and it was the very reason she agreed to wed Selwyn. 

Now as Genna walked the hallway in Maegor’s Holdfast, she smoothed her skirts and sighed. Jaime had expressed uncertainty about Septa Roelle as did Arthur and Brynden. After a confrontation with Jaime and Arthur in the yards, Roelle had taken to keeping Brienne in her bedchamber during the day. Jaime and his sworn brothers spent their time staring at a wooden door which prevented them from observing the young girl’s safety.

Under most circumstances, the brothers wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but because several people had questioned Roelle’s approach in instructing the young girl, Genna was concerned enough to make her presence known.

That day, Arthur and Jaime planned to enjoy their time off-duty at the beach with Lyanna and Lyarra. From the time they shared at the Rock, Genna knew that Brienne enjoyed the beach too. 

_ ‘Do you like swimming?’  _ Genna had studied the girl as she stared longingly at the sea.

Brienne offered a small smile.  _ ‘Yes and no.’ _

The response was strange for a girl of four. Most young children either loved something or hated it. Leaning towards Brienne, Genna had spoken inquiringly.  _ ‘What do you mean?’ _

_ ‘I like the sea, but I shouldn’t. It took my brother. Daddy also says that I can’t swim anymore.’ _

Genna hadn’t known what to say. Without understanding more of the situation and the man in question, she opted not to interfere. Now that Genna had spent a few moons with Selwyn, she had ample opinions to share. 

_ He is too absent, and he drinks too much. This girl deserves more, and I’ll give it to her. _

With a knock on Brienne’s door, Genna didn’t wait for a call to enter. She pushed into the room and noted Brienne sitting by the balcony with Septa Roelle. The Septa was having Brienne practice her script, and the woman’s brows furrowed at Genna’s entry.

“Can I help you, my lady?” Roelle stood and curtseyed as Genna strode into the room. Her crimson skirts dragged along the floor and the sound of the fabric’s movement filled the room.

“I’m stealing Princess Brienne from you. We’re going to have a beach day.”

At the words, Brienne’s eyes went wide. Her blue sapphires sparkled with delight. “Truly!? You’ll take me!?”

“Of course! You said that you enjoy the sea, but you father won’t let you enjoy it. Today, I’m making him allow it. He’ll join us too.”

Brienne’s eyes went impossibly wider. “He’s going to come? He never comes.”

Genna crouched before Brienne and smiled warmly. “I promise you that he wants to spend more time with you, but he has been trying to fix a lot of things that the last king broke. I’m going to ensure he makes more time for you though, because you deserve it!” Genna tucked a stray lock of hair behind Brienne’s ear before stroking her cheek. “Shall we go collect the old grump?”

Brienne nodded eagerly, and Genna took hold of her little hand. As Roelle began to protest, Genna put up a hand to halt her words. “She is four. The kingdoms will not implode nor will she find herself an unwed noblewoman at sixty if she takes a day to be a child. Goodbye Septa Roelle. We’ll see you on the morrow.”

Moving into the hallway, Genna guided Brienne towards Selwyn’s room. The door was open as he had just returned from council. Two distinctive voices floated into the hallway from the room as Genna neared; Selwyn and Barristan.

When Genna moved into the room, she watched Selwyn rub his face. His tone betrayed his confusion and frustration. “What does that even mean? How can that be?”

The Lord Commander sighed; his shoulders rising slightly in reply. “It means you need a stronger recruiting program for Gold Cloaks.”

“Hello boys. I’m certain nothing is more intriguing than conversations about Gold Cloaks, but we have much more important things to be doing.” Genna moved close to where the men stood and squeezed Brienne’s hand. “Selwyn, we’re going to the beach.”

“What? No.” Selwyn huffed in annoyance and turned his attention back to Barristan. 

Releasing Brienne’s hand, Genna moved quickly towards Selwyn and reached up towards his chin in contrived tenderness. Instead, she pinched his ear and raised a brow. Speaking at a level that only Selwyn could hear, Genna spoke warningly.

“You are going to do this, and you are going to smile while doing it.” 

Selwyn began to protest, but Genna pinched his ear harder. “You still have a child left to share your love with. Not all of us are so fortunate. Now smile. Brienne is watching.”

Selwyn’s eyes darted over Genna’s shoulders to Brienne. Doing as he was bid, Selwyn smiled and nodded. He muttered in reply for Genna’s ears only. “Why the beach? Please… not the beach.”

“You’ll make  _ new _ memories.  _ Necessary _ memories. A clean start for you both.” Genna released Selwyn’s ear and turned back to Brienne.

“I told you that he would be excited to spend the time with you! Come on, sweetling. We’ll go find the rest of our group.”

Barristan moved towards Selwyn and began to question him about the upcoming meetings for the day. “Your Grace… we were to meet with the captain of the Gold Cloaks, and then we have…”

_ This man and his gods damned schedules…  _

“Ser Barristan, I trust you know how to swim? You are from the Stormlands, are you not?”

Genna raised a challenging brow and stared at the man in question. Barristan glanced between Selwyn and Genna in confusion. “Swim? Why?”

“You are guarding the king today, are you not? He’ll be drifting in the sea with his daughter. I’ve taken the liberty of clearing his schedule for the rest of the day. We will be with the princess.” Genna’s tone was as much an order to Selwyn as it was clarification to Barristan.

Without awaiting reply, Genna turned around and picked up Brienne. “Lets go find everyone else. These two are slow moving, and I’ll not waste another moment in this dreary Keep.”

Genna soon found Jaime, Arthur, Lyanna, and Lyarra. Their group of six made their way towards the private beach at the base of Aegon’s Hill. The day was glorious and the sea relatively calm. Genna noted the way Arthur and Lyanna bumped shoulders along the winding path. They seemed physically incapable of breaking eye contact, and Genna considered that Arthur would likely be the first Kingsguard to take advantage of the new vows.

Jaime was busy regaling Arthur with tales of jumping from the cliffs at Casterly Rock and swimming offshore in the Sunset Sea. Biting back a laugh at Jaime’s youthful eagerness to impress his idol, Genna glanced at Brienne who she held on her hip.

“Did you swim with your brother a lot?”

Brienne’s face fell, and she nodded. “Yes. Am I allowed to talk about him?”

“Of course you are!” Genna stared into Brienne’s eyes and stopped walking. “He was very important to you and your father. It’s perfectly normal to be sad, but it is also important to reminisce about him.” 

Brienne took a moment to digest the words. She nodded slowly, but then quickly changed the subject. “Can you dive far? I can go far!”

“Shall we have a competition then? I didn’t grow up on an island, but I grew up on the coast. I can swim better than my nephew, but don’t tell him that. He seems intent on convincing Ser Arthur that he was practically born with gills.” 

The young girl giggled and covered her mouth. “Can we jump the waves too?”

“Anything you want, princess! It’s your day. We’ll even get your father to join us.”

As they arrived at the beach, the men stripped down to their smallclothes while the women stripped down to their dress slips. Genna had to concede that Arthur had an incredible body. He was tall, tone, and bronze; a proper Dornishman. His darker features made his violet eyes truly pop in the bright sun.

Lyanna waded into the sea with Lyarra at her hip; the young girl squealed as the water touched her skin. The feel of the sand on their feet and water on their skin regressed Jaime and Arthur to the state of adolescents. Both men shoved and raced into the sea; each claiming stronger swimming abilities than the other. They immediately set to the task of seeing who could dive deeper or swim farther. 

Genna waded into the sea while holding Brienne’s hand. She was surprised at how well the young girl swam. Brienne and Genna spent some time looking at the fish swimming below them, and collecting seashells from the ocean floor. 

Soon Selwyn and Barristan came trudging down the path to the beach. It was evident that Selwyn was uneasy about swimming, but he forced a smile and waved at Brienne. Like Jaime and Arthur, Selwyn stripped down to his smallclothes and muttered as he stepped into the sea. 

“It’s bloody cold! The sea is warmer around Tarth.”

_ Seven help me. So much complaining. _

Genna glanced back at the shore and watched with distaste as Barristan sat on a rock with his armor and cloak still on. “Ser Barristan! Don’t be such a bore! Get in the water.”

“Leave me be, Lady Genna! I’m on guard duty.” Barristan crossed his arms and muttered; his complaints drifting towards Genna from the shore.

Selwyn reached out for Brienne and took the young girl in his arms. “Lets see how high we can get now. You’re much older than when we last did this.”

Without warning, Selwyn chucked the young girl high in the air. Genna’s breath caught in her throat as Brienne flew high and giggled the entire way down. The young girl splashed into the water, but surfaced quickly. “Again Daddy! Again!”

While not her idea of fun, Genna was pleased that Brienne was enjoying herself. The pair played a while longer as Genna took in the scene. Arthur and Jaime took turns holding Lyarra so that Lyanna could enjoy the freedom and sea. The king and his daughter began to forget their worries and past traumas as the waves splashed over them, and the sun made their blue eyes sparkle. 

Turning her attention to the shore, Genna huffed in annoyance. “Ser Barristan… if your king needs aid, do you think to rescue him with all that armor on?”

“He has two Kingsguard in the sea. I’ll guard from land.” Barristan glanced back up the path and played with a rock in his hand. 

“Guard? Do you expect a gods damned cavalry to come charging down that hill? You’d be the only dolt to die sitting there and moping! We can swim to safety.”

At Genna’s back, Arthur and Jaime swam towards her. “Are you harassing him again?” Jaime called out teasingly. Genna turned to tell Jaime off, but he was gone. 

_ Oh no! Not this now. Troublesome boy. _

Genna looked down into the clear sea where she was treading water. Sure enough, Jaime was underneath and reaching for her legs. In his youth, Jaime always enjoyed trying to dunk Genna under the water. She hated getting her face wet, but she would do it for the children when they wished to dive for shells. 

A strong arm pulled her below the surface despite her effort to kick Jaime away. Pushing Jaime while underwater, Genna kicked to the surface and growled in frustration. “Gods dammit, Jaime! You are such an ass!”

Jaime surfaced and spit seawater at Genna. He laughed and turned his back as Genna splashed water in his face. “You truly are a child sometimes! Gods. Now my braid will be all salty and disgusting.”

In contrived defense of Genna, Arthur wrestled Jaime away and dunked him under the water. “I’ll get rid of this nuisance, Lady Genna. Now we can enjoy some peace and quiet. It’s the only way he stops talking.”

The knights fought at her back, and Genna turned her attention back to Barristan. “Stop being so dull, Selmy!”

“Lady Genna.” Arthur’s words were hushed at Genna’s side. He and Jaime and stopped trying to drown one another for a moment as the Dornish knight spoke to her. “He can’t swim.”

_ What!? _

Genna’s eyes went wide as her eyes darted from Arthur to Barristan. Growing up on the coast, it hardly occurred to Genna that people went their entire lives without learning how to swim. Suddenly she felt badly for harassing Barristan about joining them, but he could have said as much. Making her way towards shore, Genna approached Barristan as he dragged his heel back and forth in the sand.

“Come with me. I’ll teach you.”

Barristan’s head snapped to Genna. He said nothing in reply, but his eyes darted to his sworn brothers; betrayal heavy in his eyes. 

With a sigh, Genna sat next to Barristan. “It’s great fun. Look at all of them. Even Selwyn is smiling for once.”

Barristan looked hesitantly at the group, but he still did not offer a reply other than to shake his head in refute. 

“We’ll not let you drown. There are two islanders out there. Jaime and I grew up on the coast ourselves. Arthur just might have fins with how well he swims. Even little Lyarra over there is enjoying it.”

Barristan’s eyes narrowed and he muttered to himself. “I’m too old to learn such things. I’m fine where I am.”

“What a foolish thing to say. You’re never too old to learn new things.” Moving from her spot at Barristan’s side, Genna crouched before him. “You’re to guard two islanders. They’ll want to swim from time to time, and if something happens, you should know how to swim. You’re the Lord Commander.”

The words had the desired effect. Barristan was a protector at heart, and the potential of being unprepared to act should the situation arise caused him distress. 

Barristan removed his cloak, armor, and jerkin. Just seeing how many layers he had on made Genna want to run back into the sea to cool off. When Barristan removed his tunic and breeches, Genna felt her breath catch. 

Upon first meeting Barristan, Genna had considered him a very handsome man. He was tall with light blond hair, strong facial features, and pale blue eyes; though his eyes appeared rather sad. What Genna had not expected was how muscular Barristan was. Like Arthur and Jaime, he was incredibly tone and his muscles rippled as he moved. Unlike the younger knights however, Barristan had battlescars. 

As they walked towards the water, Genna saw Barristan tense and appraise the sea with trepidation. She grabbed Barristan’s arm reassuringly and tugged him forward. “Come on. You’ll be fine. I’ll not let harm befall you.”

Wading into the sea, Genna, Jaime, and Arthur showed Barristan the basics. It was interesting to see Jaime take on the role of instructor to a man he was usually being mentored by. Soon, Brienne came over to offer encouragement. 

“You can do it, Ser Barristan! I’ll help you.”

Brienne’s words made Genna chuckle. The young girl was treading water as she reached out her hands towards Barristan. 

_ Gods. Bless her little heart. She is too pure. _

Selwyn was far too amused at his Lord Commander’s pitiful attempt to swim. On more than one occasion, Barristan struggled and flailed. The king kept Barristan afloat and took over instruction from Jaime and Arthur. When Barristan became more comfortable with the movements, Brienne cheered him on as the older knight tried to swim on his own. 

An hour later, Lyarra needed to return to the Keep for a nap. Arthur offered to escort Lyanna and Lyarra back to the Tower of the Hand, and Genna smirked at the sight of him carrying the young girl up the hill while placing a hand at Lyanna’s back.

_ Good for you, Lyanna. He’s a good one. _

Soon, Jaime joined Brienne and Selwyn on the beach. The young girl wanted to build a sand-Keep and sand-battlements. She was an active child and a bit of a perfectionist. Brienne and Jaime debated the best structure, and Genna couldn’t help but laugh as they bickered over where the gates should be and the best location to place the archers.

“I’m from Tarth, Ser Jaime. We  _ know _ archery.” At Brienne’s tone, Selwyn guffawed and patted her back. 

“You tell him, sweetling. These mainlanders think they know best where it concerns archers. Ridiculous.” 

Genna snickered and kept her arms extended for Barristan to hold onto. He had an uneasy expression on his face as he looked below the water’s surface. “What is that?”

Glancing down, Genna’s brows furrowed as she tried to find what he meant. “What?”

“That creature moving at me. I don’t like the look of that.”

Genna finally caught the movement; her eyes going wide. “A jellyfish. You need to move your legs, Barristan. It will sting you. Don’t touch it.” The jellyfish was near Barristan’s left leg, and moving closer.

“A what!?” Barristan began to panic, and Genna could do little more than tug him towards her. 

“Get your legs below you and tread water for a moment. Just let it pass. Don’t be so dramatic about it.” Genna tried to watch the jellyfish move past them and away from Barristan, but she suddenly became very aware of Barristan’s proximity. 

Genna’s senses were quickly overrun with all things Barristan. The water dripped from his cheeks, nose, and chin as his head was now inches from her own. The unique scent of Barristan mixed with seawater assaulted Genna’s nostrils and had a dizzying effect. The feel of his skin under her fingertips sent her heart racing.

For moons, they had spent substantial time together in small council. What began as a weekly walk to discuss Jaime had turned into daily walks. Genna had noticed how her heart quickened when Barristan entered a room, but she had dismissed it as mentally arming for yet another argument. They bickered as though it was their job, but they also came to one another’s defense if another council member proved difficult. 

Genna had never been in love before, and she hardly knew what to look for. What Genna  _ did _ know was that feeling anything for Barristan other than friendship was a dangerous game. He was a Kingsguard, and she was the soon-to-be wife of the king. Despite Selwyn’s allowance for Genna to take a lover, she had little desire for that. 

Genna had accepted that her life was to be one of loveless marriages and endless duty. She decided to focus on Jaime’s well-being, and Brienne’s happiness. She opted to take a role in small council where she could be useful and feel some sense of purpose. Taking a lover or feeling anything for a chaste man was  _ not _ Genna’s idea of fun, nor was it wise.

None of those facts stopped Genna from staring at Barristan as his eyes tracked the rogue jellyfish now swimming away from them. His body relaxed and his eyes slowly dragged to Genna. For a moment, they simply stared at one another while treading water; their arms still gripping one another’s forearms. When Brienne laughed loudly from the shore, it broke the strange trance they had fallen under. 

Genna moved towards the shore and ensured that Barristan was able to get back safely. He moved back to his preferred rock while Genna spent another hour drying off in the sun and playing with Brienne. 

The sun’s rays soon had everyone dry enough to put their clothing back on. When the young girl grew tired, Selwyn scooped Brienne into his arms and carried her up the hill. Jaime and Barristan followed dutifully; the latter carrying his armor and cloak back up the hill. 

Walking at Selwyn’s side, Genna smiled at Brienne. “Shall we have a little rest before eating together?”

Brienne nodded sleepily in reply; an easy smile on her face. “Thank you for playing with me.”

Genna hoped the words resonated with Selwyn. All the girl needed was his love and attention. Compared to other highborn girls like Cersei, Brienne’s was a minor request with lasting impact. Brienne only wanted love, and Genna believed that she deserved that and more.


	15. Selwyn III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six moons into Selwyn's reign, Brienne's name day arrives. Selwyn struggles with his demons, but makes a decision regarding Brienne that will change her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day - this and the prior chapter (Genna I POV).

It was almost a half year into Selwyn’s rule; the first moon of 285ac. On the morrow, Selwyn would celebrate Brienne’s name day, but today, Genna was taking over the Kingsguard. It was late morning and all the Kingsguard were assembled in the White Sword Tower. 

Much to Selwyn’s relief, Barristan found his seventh Kingsguard. Arys Oakheart accepted the position, and Selwyn had yet to hear the end of it. The man was without a wife or children, and willing to take the role regardless of changes to the vows. 

The smith and a team of seamstresses were at Genna’s side while she ordered everyone about. A small smirk tugged at Selwyn’s lips as he watched Genna and Barristan continue to bicker over her  _ suggestions _ . 

“The Kingsguard has always worn these colors!” Barristan barked from beside the smith who was taking Barristan’s measurements. 

“Some things need changing, and this is one of them. Those dull colors are awful, and the sigil is all wrong! Our king is a Tarth! The armor needs to reflect that.” Genna stood beside the artist who was working on the rendering of her demanded changes to the armor and attire.

Barristan huffed. “Well you’re not proposing a simple sigil change. You’re trying to change all the bloody colors. What's next? You wish for us to wear crimson cloaks?”

“Lady Genna, can I have a violet cloak? I’m told it would make my eyes stand out.” Arthur smirked at Barristan, and the Lord Commander’s head reddened with rage as though it might pop at the suggestion. The coloring made Barristan’s blond hair and blue eyes stand out more than usual.

Selwyn chuckled at Arthur’s words. If the entire Kingsguard had to guess who told Arthur such a thing about his eyes, Selwyn considered they would all have the same answer. Lyanna. If Arthur wasn’t on duty or chumming around with Jaime, he was with Lyanna in the yards. The young Stark turned Baratheon was a true spitfire, and her personality seemed a challenge for Arthur. There was a spark in his eyes when they were together, and Lyanna would light up when he entered a room.

Jon chimed in teasingly from Selwyn’s left side. “Oh, new cloaks. If we’ve say, I’d like yellow. I always liked the color.” The knight shoved grapes into his mouth as he spoke, causing the words to come out garbled. 

“No! We wear white cloaks!” Barristan narrowed his eyes at the men; his face aghast. “And the other colors aren’t changing either.”

Raising his hand in question, Jaime ignored Barristan and continued the game. “Aunt Genna… can I have a lion on the back of mine?”

Selwyn bit back a laugh as Genna walked over and pinched Jaime’s ear. “Of course, my cub! I appreciate everyone’s enthusiasm. Ignore your Lord Commander. He has no creative vision.”

The scathing look from Barristan did little to deter Genna. “You don’t need  _ creative vision _ in the Kingsguard. You need skill with a sword, honor, loyalty…”

Genna waved dismissively at Barristan and cut him off. “Yes, yes. Please, save me the speech.” Walking back to Barristan, Genna smoothed out his tunic gently. As the other Kingsguard talked amongst themselves and waited their turn for measurements to be taken, Selwyn watched his Lord Commander and Genna carefully. 

For moons, Selwyn observed the game between them. They bickered as though it was their job, but they were also supportive towards one another and fiercely protective if anyone critiqued the other. Only they were allowed to argue with each other. More so than that, it was the way they looked at each other. When one of them wasn’t paying attention, the other stared softly. 

Selwyn had not yet mentioned it to Genna, but it was clear to anyone who bothered to watch the pair together. They had developed feelings for one another, and Selwyn was thrilled. He knew the sacrifice that Genna was making in their looming marriage, and Selwyn wanted her to be happy. He had grown to care for Genna dearly as a friend. She was a good woman and deserving of love despite what Tywin believed. 

Further, Barristan was a good man, and Selwyn believed that Genna and Barristan could make one another happy in this peculiar situation. Of course it was Barristan who Selwyn worried would be the obstacle in such an arrangement. He was a traditional man who little tolerance for anything seemed improper.

As Genna continued to futz with Barristan’s tunic, she spoke to the team working on the design. “So I want the light grey breeches with azure jerkins…”

“What!? No!” Barristan began to protest, but Genna covered his mouth with her hand and spoke in whispered tones. Whatever she said had the desired effect, and after one more lingering glare, Genna lowered her hand.

“On the jerkins, the Tarth sigil stitched using the light grey silver to match the breeches. You should make azure doublets with the same detail for warmer weather. Then they’ll need white-gold armor with that sigil she’s working on in the drawing. The armor will have the silver detailing with silver scales to match… and the white cloaks. Gods forbid we do anything with a touch of character or color.”

“You have no appreciation for…” Barristan began to protest again, but once more, his mouth was covered. Genna spoke sternly and this time, her voice was just loud enough to reach Selwyn’s ears.

“I gave you the white-gold instead of the yellow-gold. I gave you just the azure instead of the azure and rose. I gave you the light grey breeches instead of the dark grey breeches. Hush up, Selmy. Besides… Arthur has a point. The blue will bring out  _ your  _ eyes.”

Selwyn bit his tongue to keep from laughing as Barristan’s ears heated and he grumbled to himself in irritation. When his measurements were finished, Brynden was brought up next followed by Lyn. With a long suffering sigh, Selwyn glanced at Barristan who leaned against the wall.

As discussed, the Kingsguard had said their new oaths in private. The more Selwyn reflected on the idea of keeping the revision private, the more he liked it. Jaime had a good point. It would prevent women from following the Kingsguard about and distracting them. 

Further, the crown could not afford to fund quite so many weddings feasts at once. Selwyn yawned as the last measurements were taken. As always, Arthur grabbed Jaime by the nape of the neck and guided him towards the yards. “Lets go train, little brother. Our princess awaits us.”

Selwyn chuckled at the words. Brienne loved watching the knights train, and Selwyn could hardly begrudge her that. Brienne didn’t smile often in the past two years. It was difficult knowing that his demanding schedule did little to afford more time with her, but Selwyn hoped that Brienne was at least enjoying the people she was around. That day however, he and Genna would take lunch with Brienne. Selwyn was making certain of it.

Guiding Genna through the Keep with Lyn and Jon at their back, Selwyn spoke teasingly. “Did you get everything your heart desired from those troublesome Kingsguard?”

Glancing back at the men, Selwyn winked, but only Jon chuckled. Lyn was not a humorous man, though he was an incredible knight. The Keep was busy that day with attendants rushing in both directions. As Selwyn appraised the activity, Genna sighed. “What I got was a compromise, though I think they’ll look quite smart.”

Soon they arrived at Selwyn’s room. He had opted for a private venue so that they could discuss things candidly with Brienne. She was still finishing lessons with Septa Roelle, so Selwyn and Genna waited at the table in his room.

“So… any progress finding a lover to make you happy in our shared hell?” Selwyn raised a knowing brow, but Genna didn’t bite.

With a huff, Genna rolled her eyes. “I’m quite busy dealing with the crown’s purse, ensuring my troublesome nephew is well, and dealing with projects such as the Kingsguard. I’ve no time for such things.”

_ I suppose I’ll need to be more direct. Very direct. _

“I think Barristan could make a fine  _ companion _ for you.”

Genna snorted and feigned distaste, but Selwyn couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks pinked and she shifted in her chair. “He argues with me constantly.”

Selwyn hummed and reached for the jug of water on the table to pour them each a glass. “Yes, though he also reacts to anyone  _ else  _ arguing with you as though it was a threat against the crown.”

Risking a glance at Genna, Selwyn smirked at how her face flushed a deeper crimson. “Well then I suppose he is practicing for when I’m queen. Besides, he’s far too traditional for my taste.”

A slow chuckle rumbled through Selwyn’s chest. “Says the woman who loves a traditional romance novel, thinks the young nobles of court are unbecoming, and comments how the most gallant knights are of our generation… her  _ troublesome nephew _ excluded.” 

Genna smirked sarcastically and leaned onto the table. “Are you trying to say something,  _ your Grace _ ?”

“Just making idle conversation until Brienne arrives.” Selwyn took a long sip of his water and groaned inwardly. For this lunch, Genna refused him brandy or wine. “I would also add that you’re both stubborn, loyal, self-sacrificing, and equally pathetic around one another.”

Genna scoffed at the words. “Excuse me!?” Swatting his arm hard, Genna huffed and glanced away. She grumbled to herself before crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair.

“You are! I will say, it would be incredibly convenient! He’s already expected to be at the Keep and hovering around these very rooms. Hells… I could even make him your  _ personal guard _ . Think of what a wonderful night you could have. That is night as in k-n-i-g-h-t.”

Selwyn chuckled as he spoke which earned him another firm swat from Genna. He raised a teasing brow, but quickly patted her arm when she calmed. “I just want you to be happy.”

Abruptly, the door opened and Brienne walked in slowly. With Roelle at her back and mumbling to her, Brienne attempted a curtsey as she met their eyes. The attempt was as poor as every other, and Selwyn cringed.  _ Seven hells _ . 

“Hello, sweetling! Come sit with us. No need for all that formality.” 

Brienne moved towards the table and climbed onto her chair. It was overwhelming to think that his little girl would be five on the morrow. 

“Tell me, what would you like to do on your name day?”

Brienne’s eyes glanced up slowly. “I’d like to go fishing.”

“No. Nothing on the water.” Images of Galladon lifeless in his guard’s arms flashed in Selwyn’s mind. It had taken every bit of strength in Selwyn to put on a good show at the beach two moons prior. Selwyn had nightmares for a week afterwards.

Brienne leaned back in her chair and sulked. “Can I learn to spar?”

“No! By the gods, Brienne. Do you mean to kill me?” Selwyn dragged a massive hand down his face. “How about a tea party?”

“I don’t like that.” Brienne’s nose scrunched in distaste. The response earned a chuckle from Genna.

“How about a little sparring match between the Kingsguard? We can cheer them on and make a proper competition of it.” Genna spoke in exaggerated excitement. If there was one thing that Selwyn knew of Genna, she found swordplay dull to watch.

Brienne gasped excitedly at the thought; her eyes darting between the adults. “Can we!? I can make a flower crown for the winner.”

Selwyn bit back a laugh and nodded in feigned interest. “Of course! Wonderful idea, Lady Genna!”

With the matter settled and Brienne in better spirits, Selwyn glanced at Genna and mouthed his appreciation. “Thank you.”

That night, Selwyn’s dreams haunted him. He tossed and turned; his body coated in sweat. 

  
  


_ “My lord, you have a daughter. She’s a large babe, but healthy.” The maester handed a babe wrapped in swaddling to Selwyn.  _

_ With Galladon at his side, Selwyn dropped to a knee. “My boy… look at your new little sister. What do you think?” _

_ Galladon was only four, but he spoke as a boy of eight might. “I’ll teach her to swim and fish and jump from the cliffs! And then we’ll…” _

_ The young boy’s words stuck in his throat and he began to choke. Selwyn panicked and turned towards the maester, but he was gone. “Gal! Breathe, son! What’s wrong!?” _

_ Water poured from his lips and Galladon clutched at his throat. Setting Brienne down at his side, Selwyn spun Galladon around and patted the boy’s back forcefully. He wondered at what was stuck in the boy’s throat, but only water spilled from Galladon’s lips.  _

_ “Galladon! Help! Someone, please!” Selwyn turned in all directions, but there was no one there. By his leg, Brienne cried out for attention, but Selwyn was preoccupied with Galladon.  _

_ The boy was soaking wet with what smelled like seawater. Strangely, even his hair and back were soaked. Then the boy went limp in Selwyn’s arms. _

_ Laying him down and turning the boy over, Selwyn sobbed as he noted Galladon’s lifeless eyes. His skin was pale and cold.  _

_ Still, Brienne sobbed at his side. Without taking his eyes off Galladon, Selwyn begged her to stop. “Brienne, please! Don’t you see? Your brother is dead! Where is everyone? Gods, please. What’s happening?” _

_ Brienne continued crying, but her voice sounded higher up. Turning around, Selwyn saw her tear-stained face and haunting blue eyes staring at him. She was older; three or four years of age.  _

_ As she kept crying, Selwyn heard his wife scream. Surging past Brienne, Selwyn ran into the door that muffled Arianne’s cries. Pushing through the door, Selwyn smelled blood. The iron scent assaulted his nose as he watched his wife pale and extend her hand to him. _

_ “Sel… something is wrong. It hurts.” _

_ Rushing to the bed, Selwyn pulled Arianne into an embrace. “Gods! What’s wrong!? What happened?” _

_ At his back, Brienne continued to sob. Her cries were so loud that Selwyn couldn’t hear his wife’s whispered words. “Brienne, please! Stop!” _

_ “Keep… is light...” Arianne struggled with the words. Her body was going limp and Brienne only cried louder.  _

_ “Brienne! Stop! Please!” Selwyn sobbed and screamed. He couldn’t hear the final words of his wife, but he felt the life leave her body. Selwyn sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands.  _

_ Suddenly, more cries joined Brienne’s continued sobs. Glancing up, Selwyn saw Brienne standing by a cradle. She wouldn’t stop crying as she reached up for the babe whose wails joined her own.  _

_ Rushing to the cradle, Selwyn saw two babes inside. They were wrapped in swaddling, but their faces were covered and Selwyn panicked. “They can’t breathe!” _

_ Pulling the swaddles off their faces, Selwyn gasped and stumbled backwards. Two lion cubs wailed as though human.  _

  
  


Hands pushed forcefully into Selwyn’s shoulders. “Wake up! Selwyn!” 

Selwyn sat upright quickly and gasped for air. A mix of tears and sweat coated his cheeks as he glanced around the room frantically. Genna kneeled on the bed with Ser Arys at her back. 

When both noted that he was awake and alright, Arys left the room to continue standing guard. 

As Selwyn’s breathing settled and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he left the bed and stumbled towards the table. With shaking hands, he poured himself some brandy and downed it quickly.

“Stop it! Enough! It won’t chase away the pain or nightmares.” Genna rushed to his side and grabbed the snifter. In response, Selwyn grabbed the jar and drank from it directly.

“It makes the sleep dreamless. Let me be.” Selwyn sat on the edge of the bed and wiped at his face.

Slumping into the chair near the table, Genna spoke imploringly. “Please. Not today. It’s her name day. The sun will be up in a few hours.”

“I’ll be fine! Please! I can’t… I can’t sleep without it.”

_ When will the pain end? _

Genna growled and stormed back into her room. She slammed the door and with her absence, Selwyn sobbed. He downed what remained of the brandy and fell into his desired, dreamless sleep.

When Selwyn eventually awoke, the sun was high in the sky. He stumbled and swayed towards the table and braced himself using its edge. 

_ What hour is it? _

A loud ringing in Selwyn’s ears caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. He fumbled blindly for the water basin and splashed his face. The taste in his mouth was wretched and spoke to his overindulging in the brandy. Rinsing his mouth with water and then chewing on mint leaves, Selwyn grimaced as his body threatened to lose anything in its stomach. 

_ I’ve truly fucked up now. It’s getting worse. Goodwin would throttle me. _

With a throbbing head, Selwyn changed for the day. He tried to present himself well enough, but shame and embarrassment flooded him at the unknown. With no awareness for the hour or what he had missed, Selwyn stumbled into the hallway. 

Barristan and Brynden stood on guard. It was obvious from Barristan’s expression that he was unimpressed as ever. Brynden raised a brow and bowed his head.

“Good  _ afternoon _ , your Grace.” 

_ Fuck. Afternoon. _

Barristan bowed his head as well, and mumbled a similar greeting. 

Selwyn had missed breaking his fast with Brienne, and most likely, lunch. “Have uh… has Brienne been by?”

Barristan huffed and glanced away, but Brynden spoke quietly at Selwyn’s left side. “Well after breaking her fast alone in her room, she had her lessons with Setpa Roelle, and then Lady Genna took her for lunch.”

Selwyn felt the familiar stinging at the back of his eyes. His own emotional failing as a grieving father and husband would drive away the only person he had left. As he scolded himself, Selwyn vowed to not drink for the remainder of the week. The mere thought alone made him feel ill, but he had to remain sober for Brienne. 

_ Brienne. Even in my dreams I avoid her. How do I fix it?  _

Stopping his progress, Selwyn took a steadying breath and turned back to his room. The Kingsguard followed dutifully, but he could feel their eyes boring a hole into his back. Neither man had children, but Selwyn considered that they would make for better fathers than him. 

Bursting through the door to his bedchambers, Selwyn moved quickly towards the chest at the foot of his bed. In it, he had many personal items from Tarth, but there was one he had in mind. Pushing away all manner of things, Selwyn found the sheathed sword he had gifted Galladon on the boy’s sixth name day. 

It was a dull blade, but it was meant to teach him the proper weight and technique until he could have a true sword. He had smiled at Galladon moons prior to his sixth name day when he used to battle the squires with a wooden sword. His technique was poor, but he was determined.

_ ‘If you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right.’ _

When Selwyn brought the sword to King’s Landing, it was never intended for Brienne. The sword was a memory that he struggled to part with. For years, Selwyn and Goodwin trained Galladon. He wanted to be a great knight like his namesake; Galladon of Morne. 

Unsheathing the sword, Selwyn let out a shaky breath. He had been petrified to allow Brienne to train despite her interest in swordplay. In his heart, Selwyn feared that she might wish to fight in a true battle someday, and if that happened, he might lose her too. It was selfish and he knew it, but the idea of his little girl having a sword shoved through her hurt Selwyn to think on.

_ Perhaps I’ll put some limits on it. Training only. No tourneys or battles. There is no harm in it, so long as she maintains her lessons and acts as a lady should.  _

Standing on shaky legs, Selwyn gripped the bedpost and leaned against it. Something deep within made him fearful of the allowance. Brienne was a Stormlander and stubborn as any. If she wanted to enter a tourney or sneak off into battle, Selwyn wouldn’t put it past her. 

_ Seven hells. This could truly backfire on me.  _

Composing himself, Selwyn moved back into the hallway. The Kingsguard followed silently once more as Selwyn made his way through the Keep. He imagined that Brienne was somewhere in the gardens or the training yards. Walking dichotomy that she was, the girl was either cheering for some poor knight’s destruction in the yards or picking flowers in a field to weave into a crown. 

Finding Brienne proved easier than expected. When he stepped outside, Selwyn felt his heart sink when he saw her at the edge of the gardens sitting alone and making a crown of flowers. Genna stood a few feet back with Jaime at her side. They were both speaking in hushed tones as Selwyn approached, and when Genna noticed him, her eyes said everything that Selwyn already thought of himself.

_ Pathetic. Shit father. Failure. Unworthy.  _

Looking to the ground, Selwyn moved past them and to where Brienne sat. The sun’s rays caught her blonde braid that appeared far too intricate to be done by her hand or the septa’s.  _ Genna.  _

Hearing his approach, Brienne squinted and glanced up. She offered a small smile. “Hello, father.”

Sitting at her side, Selwyn placed the sword to his left and patted her head. “Happy name day, sweetling. I’m very sorry that I missed so much of your day.”

Brienne continued working on the crown of flowers. “It’s alright. I know you’re busy.”

Selwyn’s throat burned worse than it did when he drank. Clearing his throat, Selwyn hung his head in shame. “I was not feeling so well this morning… and this afternoon. I’m very sorry. I made some poor decisions last night.”

Glancing at Selwyn once more, Brienne smiled sadly. “I know. You always smell like that drink when you don’t feel good.”

“I’m going to make it up to you. I promise. How about a spar?” Selwyn raised a brow in question. At his suggestion, Brienne’s head snapped to him.

“A spar? With sticks? I can find some.” A wide smile stretched across her face, but her eyes went wide when Selwyn handed her Galladon’s sword. She knew it of course. She spent many hours staring at it when Galladon wasn’t sparring.

“You’re a year younger than Galladon was, but… I think you’re tougher. He would want you to have this. There are some rules with this of course. This is only for fun. No tourneys or battles. You leave that to the knights, yes?” Selwyn lifted a finger to ensure that Brienne understood the rules.

“Yes! I promise! No tourneys or battles. Just for fun!” Brienne lunged forward and embraced Selwyn. “Thank you!” 

Standing from the ground, Selwyn took Brienne’s little hand in his and walked her towards the yards. “Perhaps we can have that competition with the Kingsguard afterwards. When I mentioned it to Prince Oberyn last night, he said that he wanted to spar too.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide and her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Her mother’s eyes. Selwyn had to break eye contact and stare at his feet as they walked. With Galladon’s sword in his left hand, Selwyn chuckled at the realization that Brienne still had her crown of flowers.

“Is that for your name day?”

Brienne glanced at the flower crown she carried and shook her head in refute. “No. You can’t make them for yourself. They have to be given to you.”

_ Galladon always tucked a flower behind her ear. I hope someday a true husband will. Someone who loves her.  _

For almost an hour, Selwyn showed Brienne the basic moves. She was a much faster learner than Galladon, but at only five, she didn’t listen as well. When she had the movements down, Selwyn lined up opposite her and unsheathed the sword he had taken from the armory. 

“Alright now. Lets see how well you listened.” 

With restrained swings, Selwyn’s brows rose in surprise at how strong her instincts were with a blade. She blocked well and moved quickly from his counters. __

_ Gods. Galladon spent much of the first day on his ass. She’s truly not bad.  _

Several groans from the rock wall caught Selwyn’s attention. Brynden, Barristan, and Jaime all grimaced at the father and daughter.

“You’re teaching her wrong.” Barristan was the first to speak. 

_ Know it all. Gods damned, Selmy. _

“Princess, practice selective listening with your father.” Barristan walked over and repositioned her. “Pull out your elbow, love. You’ll not counter well doing it his way.” 

Selwyn grumbled to himself, but Barristan was taking over. A loud voice approaching the training grounds called out. “Is that my Little Flower with a sword in hand!?” 

Glancing to his side, Selwyn watched as Arthur strode over with a wide smile on his face. As was often the case, Lyanna was at this side with her arm looped through Arthur’s. Arthur clapped Jaime’s back as he arrived. “What’s this now?”

“His Grace spent an hour showing the princess how to spar, and now Ser Barristan is correcting all the errors.”

_ Truly? You too, Lannister?  _

Soon the present Kingsguard members had nudged Selwyn out of the way. Selwyn huffed and put his hands on his hips. __

_ I suppose she’ll learn from the best living knights there are. Arguably the greatest swordsmen of all time if one is to believe the masses.  _

It wasn’t long before the rest of the Kingsguard, Oberyn, and Genna made their way over. “Is it time for the competition?” Oberyn smirked and finished the apple that he was gnawing on. “I’ve been sharpening my spear all day.”

The excitement radiating off Brienne warmed Selwyn’s heart. Picking her up, Selwyn walked to the rock walll so they could watch the renowned fighters. Genna and Lyanna flanked them, but the women couldn’t have been more different. Unsurprisingly, Genna thought the entire thing barbaric and unnecessary. Lyanna however was in her element.

“Get the crown ready for Ser Arthur, princess. He’s going to win.”

Genna huffed at Selwyn’s left and leaned forward to glare at Lyanna. “Careful, little wolf. My nephew is a true prodigy. The youngest Kingsguard ever!”

Selwyn hummed at the exchange. In truth, his coin was on Oberyn. By all accounts, Barristan and Arthuer were the best living swordsmen in the kingdoms, but Oberyn had a spear. The man was known to be deadly with the weapon, and that would give him the advantage of reach. Not to be discounted though, was Ser Brynden. 

The Viper declared himself Master of Competition since he was Master of War. He had the men draw numbers to see who would match up and in which order they fought. The first match was Jaime and Brynden. 

The Blackfish smirked at Jaime and unsheathed his blade. “I so enjoy humbling youth. I’m eager to see how much your skill has been embellished.”

Arthur guffawed. “My coin is on my little brother! He’s going to clean and fillet you Blackfish.” 

The Kingsguard stepped to the edge of the yards, and cheered on their brothers. Selwyn chuckled at the clear divide between the Kingsguard. The newest brothers cheered for the Blackfish on the right side of the yards, but Jon, Barristan, and Arthur urged on the youngest from the left. 

Genna tensed at Selwyn’s side and grabbed his arm. “Gods. He’s going to get hurt. These men are too grown.”

Selwyn’s chest shook with laughter. “He’s a Kingsguard, Genna. I think he’ll survive a spar.”

To Selwyn’s surprise, Jaime’s skill was far from overpraised. He danced around the Blackfish with relative ease. The older knight grew frustrated at how fast Jaime moved. 

_ My gods. Jaime is toying with Brynden Tully of all people! _

Arthur was laughing loudly and clutching Barristan’s arm. The shocked expressions from Brynden’s cheering section were enough to provoke a laugh from even Barristan. “Come on, Jaime. Put the Blackfish out of his misery.” 

At his lord commander’s orders, Jaime moved so quickly that for a moment, Selwyn thought the boy held two swords. Brynden fell to his ass and stared up at the point of Jaime’s blade. With a most Lannister smile, Jaime extended a hand to Brynden to help him upright. 

With a laugh, Brynden shook his head in dismay and accepted the offered hand. The Blackfish was good-natured in loss and patted Jaime’s head before sheathing his sword and walking towards his stunned cheering section. 

From Selwyn’s side, Genna cheered loudly for her nephew. She leaned over and whispered. “Oh he’s just adorable out there with his idols.” 

“What happened?” Arys’ eyes were wide as he stared at the Blackfish.

“That boy is not normal. You try sparring him.” Brynden huffed and elbowed Lyn. “Go on. Your turn for embarrassment.”

Unfortunately for Lyn, he drew Arthur in the first round. Lyn stepped forward and rolled his eyes as he was forced to wait for his opponent. The Sword of the Morning was busy doing some type of strange celebration with Jaime. 

_ What is that?  _

Lyanna snorted at Selwyn’s side. “They’ve been working on that for weeks. It’s awful.”

“What is it?” Selwyn watched as the two men exchanged some type of coordinated greeting. Hands, fists, and elbows bumped one another in a choreographed set of movements.

“I have no idea. They’ve been trying to get Barristan and Jon to do it too, but neither seem impressed. They also dance… that’s the more embarrassing part to watch.” Lyanna sighed at Selwyn’s side and clapped loudly as Arthur moved into the yards.

He had left Dawn on the side of the yard and instead took a standard blade. “I’ll go easy, Lyn. No need to scowl.”

_ Scowl? No, that’s just Lyn’s face. _

“Little Flower! How is my crown coming along!?” Arthur called out teasingly while pointed his sword at Lyn. 

Brienne lifted the flower crown proudly. “I have it Ser Arthur!” 

The other knights began to protest the assignment of ownership before the contest ended. Only Oberyn seemed to concede that the likely winner was in the middle of the yards.  _ The Dornish must stick together I suppose.  _

The match began and Selwyn’s eyes went wide. If that was Arthur going easy on someone, Selwyn feared what it meant for him to fight with effort. In fewer moves than it would take time for Selwyn to sneeze, Lyn was on his ass with a sword at his neck. Lyn was no pushover. He was an incredible knight that was highly regarded in the Vale. 

The original four Kingsguard were thoroughly embarrassing the newcomers. At the left side of the yards, the three seasoned guards cheered for their sworn brother. Apparently this match required a victory dance as well. 

_ Oh my. Lyanna had the right of it. It’s awful.  _

Jaime and Arthur were in their own world dancing victoriously while Barristan and Jon tried to move away from the effort to be included. 

Lyanna sighed and shook her head. “I told you. The hand thing is much more reasonable.” 

Next was the first match between two of the original four. Jon had drawn Barristan in the first round. Barristan walked to the middle of the yards, but Jon hung back and groaned. “Truly? Why bother?” 

Arthur shoved Jon towards the middle and clapped encouragingly. “Come on, Jon. Take your beating like a man.”

With a rare smile, Barristan raised his blade. “Lets show those dolts how to spar without making a foolish dance out of it.”

Jon sighed heavily and raised his blade. As Barristan’s wrist turned, Jon grimaced and Selwyn could understand why. Barristan did not go easy on his sworn brother. He disarmed Jon in less moves than it took Arthur to embarrass Lyn. Selwyn had seen Jon spar on multiple occasions, and the man was also impressive. He easily bested two or three Gold Cloaks at once, and Jon could hold his own with the Blackfish and Lyn.

Of course, Barristan couldn't just win with one cut. He tapped Jon with the flat of his blade twice before holding his sword to the man’s neck. Jon dropped his sword and huffed. “Well this is just shit!”

Picking up Jon’s sword for him, Barristan called out to Brienne without taking his eyes off Jon. “I hope there are white flowers in my crown, princess. I prefer  _ traditional  _ colors.” 

Brienne giggled and nodded. “I have white flowers and blue flowers, Ser Barristan!”

“Azure, I hope. Gods forbid we don’t have azure with the white.” Barristan’s parting jab at Genna did not earn her ire. She was busy gawking.

With an amused hum, Selwyn leaned over. “I thought you found such competitions barbaric? You seem… interested.”

“He’s… they’re quite impressive.” Genna shook herself from the stupor she was in. 

Next was Oberyn and Arys. The Viper put on a grand show of it by flipping around the yards and spinning his spear. The original four grumbled in reply as though the showmanship ridiculous. Arthur shook his head and snorted. “At least we wait until  _ after  _ we've won.”

Selwyn was impressed by how smoothly Oberyn moved once the match began. Poor Arys never stood a chance against the Viper. The man’s spear moved as fast as Arthur’s sword had. 

_ My gods. Dorne is making this look easy. Gods dammit, Selmy. Pay attention to these two. _

Once Arys was on his ass and covering his head protectively, Oberyn bowed dramatically and smirked at the original four who seemed a bit uneasy about dealing with the spear. Round two started with Arthur and Jaime.

At his side, Genna clutched her chest. “Oh dear. At least he’ll lose to his idol.”

“Don’t count the boy out. He’s quite good, Genna.” Selwyn tried to reassure her, but in truth, Selwyn didn’t expect much out of the match. 

The two lined up; each with smirks on their faces. Arthur was confident as ever. “I’ll remember you fondly little brother.” 

“Good. I’m glad you won’t hold victory against me.” Jaime replied immediately and earned an approving nod from his sworn brother and idol. 

_ The boy has balls. I’ll give him that. _

“Get him, Ser Arthur!” Brienne cheered loudly which earned an offended gasp from Jaime. 

“Again you cheer against me, Princess!? After how wonderfully I guard you!?” 

Selwyn bit back a laugh, but soon, the sight of steel meeting steel saw Selwyn’s mirth replaced with awe. The two men were surprisingly well-matched. Unlike Arthur’s first match, he had to  _ try _ . 

Jaime ducked several quick swings and spun left. His sword reached out, but was quickly blocked as Arthur hardly acknowledged the strike. As the two men circled one another again, Selwyn could see the spark in their eyes. 

_ These knights live for this. It’s how Brienne looks when she watches it all.  _

Arthur and Jaime surged forward again. Their blades came together in a blur of steel as they moved fluidly around each other. They were both fast and confident. The other competitors were truly getting into the match, and most were cheering for Jaime. Lyanna stood from the rock wall and called out.

“Get him, Arthur.” The young woman had not an ounce of doubt in her eyes as she watched the match. At the remark, Genna scoffed and screamed for Jaime to show Dorne how lions fought. 

Steel rang loudly and on one swing from Arthur, Selwyn truly thought that Jaime would lose his head. Surprisingly, the youth ducked and rolled forward. As he righted himself, Jaime almost landed a winning tap to Arthur’s side, but the Sword of the Morning was too fast. He spun on Jaime and unleashed a torrent of blows. Jaime was up quickly and back on his heels, but Arthur was too good. 

In an effort to spin away, Jaime caught the edge of Arthur’s blade with his own, but his grip was too loose on the turn. The sword dropped from his hand and Arthur turned quickly to lower his blade towards Jaime’s head. 

Selwyn gasped at how incredible the match had been. He considered that with more training under Arthur and Barristan, Jaime just might surpass them. With a loud guffaw, Arthur threw his arm around Jaime. “Little lion! What was that!? Fantastic.”

Jaime’s expression alone made it seem that he had won. At Selwyn’s side, Genna cheered loudly. “Well fought!” Leaning over, she gushed over her nephew. “He did so well. Did you see that!?”

Brienne was clapping loudly and cheering for both knights who took a bow towards their princess. The sworn brothers were sweaty and breathless. The sight of them desperately wiping at their brows made Selwyn lift his eyes to the sky and appraise the sun. 

It was a hot day out given the time of year. Selwyn was sweating as well, though he was not the one exerting himself. In the next match, Barristan would face Oberyn. Before Barristan stepped forward, Arthur tugged him close and whispered something. 

As he did the first match, Oberyn came out in a series of twirls. “Barristan the Bold. Have you lost a step in age?”

Genna grumbled at Selwyn’s side, and it took everything in him not to laugh at her protectiveness. She complained at Selwyn’s side. “He shouldn't be allowed a spear. That isn’t fair.”

Jon, Jaime, and Arthur cheered loudly for their Lord Commander while the other Kingsguard looked on in awe at the two men facing off. Selwyn cringed as he considered Genna’s words. 

_ How the hells is he meant to fight off a spear using a sword? _

Barristan was like Goodwin in his approach. He let Oberyn come to him, and he took a moment to do little more than appraise the Viper’s movement and style. Blocking deftly, Barristan tried multiple times to get past the spear, but he held back each time before continuing forward. 

Then the pace changed. Barristan began to swing rapidly to which Oberyn responded in kind. On one vicious swing from Oberyn, Selwyn was shocked when Barristan managed to leap over the spear which cut across knee level. As he jumped, Barristan spun around and reached out with his sword. Oberyn just ducked out of the way and nodded approvingly at Barristan. 

_ I’ll certainly not be jumping that high anytime soon.  _

Both men moved faster than Selwyn’s eyes could keep up with their weapons. Barristan managed to slip in and out before the spear could reach him. The match was getting intense, and Selwyn was getting anxious just watching it. Abruptly, Barristan surged forward and dove under a swing. He slid under Oberyn’s legs which were set wide in his stance. Barristan emerged at the Viper’s back. His sword swiped up, but Oberyn met it with his spear.

The spear snapped in two on impact with Barristan’s blade. Rather than chuck the useless half to the ground, Oberyn used both as a weapon; one in each hand. He spun each end impressively and used the end without steel more to disorient Barristan than to strike. 

In a strong block, Barristan batted the useless half of the spear out of Oberyn’s hand. Spinning right, Barristan ducked under a head level swing with a quick block and counter. Barristan threw the sword from his left hand to his right, and delivered a series of quick strikes; the flat of his blade hitting Oberyn three times before coming to the Viper’s neck.

With a smirk, Barristan spoke cockily. “Apologies. I forgot that I’m right handed.” 

_ Wait. What!? Was he just fighting with the left the entire time? _

The original sworn brothers lost their minds cheering. They charged at Barristan and pounced on him excitedly. A loud sigh pushed past Oberyn’s lips and he shook his head. “For a moment, I thought you lost a step.”

The only one more excited than Barristan’s sworn brothers was Genna. She stood and clapped loudly. Turning to Selwyn, she hit him hard on the arm. “Did you see that!? That is your Lord Commander! He’s beating men half his age! He beat Prince Oberyn!”

Selwyn’s jaw dropped at what he had witnessed. Both men were  _ incredible  _ fighters. Neither were the type to cross, and inwardly, Selwyn considered that he should disagree with Barristan and Oberyn much less often than he did in council.

Even Lyanna seemed impressed at Selwyn’s side; the young woman having previously dismissed anyone  _ not  _ Arthur. “You have an impressive Kingsguard, your Grace.”

_ Yes, I do. Gods did I get lucky. _

As the men calmed themselves in the yards, Selwyn considered the match to come. It would truly be the best against the best, but Oberyn was a very close third. Squeezing Brienne tightly in his arms, Selwyn smiled and spoke into her ear.

“Who do you want to win?”

Brienne was beaming as she stared straight ahead. “Both! They should both get a crown.”

Selwyn chuckled at the words. She never wanted to see others disappointed, and she felt everyone deserved accolades.

Selwyn felt his body heat working over time just watching the intense fights, but the men who just fought the second round were very sweaty. With the men stepping back into place, Arthur shrugged off his tunic. An approving hum from Lyanna found its way to Selywn’s ears. 

_ How are they not betrothed yet? She might fall pregnant just staring at him like that.  _

Of course, Arthur was in incredible shape. He was tone with muscles rippling. Using his tunic to wipe the sweat from his head, Arthur nodded at Barristan. “Come on, old man. Yet again... You and me at the end.”

Barristan’s tunic was in no better condition than Arthur’s had been. He tugged off the damp clothing and wiped down the hilt of his blade with it before removing the sweat from his head. Given he was a man of seven-and-forty, Selwyn had not expected Barristan to have muscles like the younger men. As with everything else about the man, Barristan proved Selwyn wrong. 

The impressed hum from Genna’s lips did not go unnoticed, and on that occasion, Selwyn could not contain his laughter. Glancing at her, Selwyn smirked and leaned over and whispered. “Did your smallclothes drop?”

Genna scoffed and hit his arm. “I’m just glad that they can cool down a bit before the final fight. I’d hate for them to get overheated.” 

Selwyn snorted loudly. It was a hot day for the first moon of the year, but there was no threat of overheating. Like Tarth, King’s Landing tended to remain warmer throughout the year compared to other areas of the kingdoms. 

The men were getting rowdy as Arthur and Barristan finished wiping the sweat from their hands and sword hilts. Genna leaned over and whispered. “Who is better?”

Selwyn shrugged slightly. “I’ve heard that they’re equal with standard swords, but with  _ Dawn _ , Arthur has the advantage.”

Genna’s brows furrowed in worry as she stared at the men. “They won’t hurt one another, will they?”

Trying to prevent his eyes from rolling, Selwyn responded quietly and raised a brow. “Barristan will be fine, Genna.”

“I am worried about them both. They’re clearly tired and…”

“Half-naked?” Selwyn bit back a laugh and watched as Genna pinked. 

“... they could become sloppy in their movements. That is how injury happens.” With a huff, Genna turned towards the match. Both men were stepping into a position and smirking at one another. Like Jaime and Arthur sparring, Barristan and Arthur seemed excited to spar.

The rest of the fighters seemed conflicted, but Jaime was very loudly cheering for Arthur while the Blackfish was pulling for  _ their  _ generation. “Come on, Barristan! Humble the boy.”

Selwyn could see both men tightening their grips as every muscle in their bodies responded with increased tension. Cocky as ever, Arthur smirked at his Lord Commander. “One blade or two?”

“One.” Barristan’s reply was immediate. “I’ll need a free hand to take my crown.”

_ Thank the gods I didn’t sleep through this. We should do this regularly. Then again… the women look ready to explode. Gods, I hope Brienne doesn’t become some swooning maiden like this. No, that will never be my girl. She’ll knock them all to their silly asses.  _

With the men cheering loudly, both fighters nodded at one another and the match began. Selwyn didn’t think it possible for either man to move faster than they had in the last round, but they managed to. It was difficult to keep up with their movement. Ther swords moved like mere extensions of their arms. 

Spinning in directions that should have made it impossible for them to track one another’s movement, both men blocked and countered. It was clear that they trained together often and could telegraph the other’s movements. __

_ Gods. They truly are evenly matched.  _

“Riposte, Barristan! Riposte!” Brynden shouted from one end of the yards, while Jaime shouted from the other.

“Right wrist, Arthur! He’s rolling his grip!”

Selwyn could hardly keep up with all the commentary.  _ How the hells do they see it so easily. I can barely see the bloody swords flying about.  _

Brienne jumped down and cheered wildly for both me. The other knights were equally excited; everyone regressed to the state of five-year-olds. From Selwyn’s sides, the women began to bicker over who was the better swordsman.

The two fighters spun, ducked, and dodged swings faster than Selwyn could tally them. In a flurry of swings, Barristan caught Arthur off balance, and the Dronish knight lost his sword and rolled forward to avoid a vicious cut from Barristan. Scampering to the side of the yards. Jaime tossed Arthur  _ Dawn _ . 

The blade was impressive with a sharp edge. It caught the sun’s rays, and Arthur smirked at Barristan whose shoulders sank at the sight of it. 

“Not fair!” Genna screamed at the scene playing out before them, but Barristan only took a deep breath and charged forward. 

Arthur met Barristan’s strikes and began to beat back the older knight. In a similar movement to Barristan’s, Arthur disarmed Barristan. Dodging a strike and leaning away to his left, Barristan tried to get to his sword, but Arthur blocked his path. With a smirk and shake of his head, Arthur spoke challengingly. “Yield?”

From the side of the yard, Ser Lyn unsheathed his Valyrian steel, Lady Forlorn. “Barristan!”

Lyn threw the Valyrian steel and Barristan ran to catch it. In one fluid motion, Barristan grabbed the hilt and blocked a swing from Arthur. The two impressive steel swords clashed together and rang differently than the other steel had. Evenly matched once more, both men circled one another and the swords spun above their heads at an incredible speed.

Both women began to pace wildly to Selywn’s left and right; each having long abandoned their seats on the rock wall. Blades clashed from each angle, and neither man gained advantage. Then after ducking under a long swing from Athur, Barristan dragged his sword upwards quickly. Arthur barely blocked the blow, but to avoid being caught off balance, he dropped to the ground and rolled. Grabbing one of the discarded standard steel swords, Arthur stood with two swords in hand. 

He charged at Barristan who somehow managed to block attacks from each angle. Sliding left, Barristan reached out with his foot and kicked up the other discarded blade. Catching it by the hilt, he turned and met Arthur’s attack with two swords of his own.

_ By the Seven! These two are incredible.  _

Both knights began to fight with two swords as though second nature. It was the most impressive showing that Selwyn had ever seen. He suddenly found himself on his feet and shouting for both men. The two sworn brothers moved around one another. They were a mess of tangled limbs, but they somehow managed to block and counter faster than the other man could land a blow or muster a second attack.

On their last exchange, both knight’s blades locked in a cross block. As each man tugged and spun backwards, each lost a sword. Both were left with their superior steel once more, and their footwork took over again.

As they moved forward, backwards, and side to side, Arthur’s feet stepped over a discarded sword. After blocking a blow from Barristan, Arthur’s heels pressed together and he jumped up. As his feet left the ground, he kicked up the sword and caught it with his free hand. 

Using  _ Dawn _ to block a blow from Barristan in midair, Arthur landed and spun with the standard steel in hand. He brought the steel to a halt just at Barristan’s neck, and a victorious smile stretched across his face. “Yield?”

Both men were drenched in sweat and gasping for air. With a sigh and huff of laughter, Barristan nodded. “Yield.”

It took a moment to process everything that he had just witnessed, but Selwyn’s hands managed to clap of their own accord. The yards erupted into loud cheers for both men who had put on an incredible show. Lyanna screamed with delight and ran to Arthur who embraced her eagerly.

“Still think you can best me, my lady?” Arthur spoke teasingly, but Lyanna looked him dead in the eye and nodded. “Of course, I can.”

Both dissolved into a fit of laughter. From the corner of his eye, Selwyn watched as Barristan handed the Valyrian steel blade back to Lyn and thanked him. It had been fascinating to watch the two superior steel swords come together in a spar. Selwyn had not seen anything equal to  _ Dawn  _ in the yards before _ Lady Forlorn _ was thrown into the fight. 

As Brienne approached giddily with her crown of flowers, Arthur beamed and kneeled before her. “Thank you, princess! I’ll wear it proudly to every Kingsguard meeting for the remainder of the week. Ser Barristan  _ loves  _ being reminded of his losses.”

Barristan only rolled his eyes at the words and went to retrieve his tunic. As he walked by, Selwyn saw Genna reach out for Barristan’s arm. Her words were whispered, but Selwyn could just hear them. 

“I’d wager on you in a rematch.”

Barristan smiled softly in reply and teased. “Gods… and you’re our Master of Coin. How are we not broke?”

Before Selwyn could congratulate Arthur on a well-earned victory, Varys rushed towards the yards. “Your Grace. Word from Dorne.”

Glancing at Oberyn, Selwyn reached for the missive. His Master of War lost any mirth in his eyes and walked quickly towards him. For weeks, rumors swirled of turmoil in Dorne. Prince Lewyn’s paramour had a handful of vassals amassing a small army set on vengeance for the slaying of their prince, Elia, and Aegon. 

House Martell tried to suppress the growing tensions, but the snakes were coiling and poised to strike the West. Oberyn believed that some in Dornish would not rest until House Clegane was extinct, and many in Dorne believed that Tywin was behind Gregor's actions.

Opening the missive, Selwyn and Oberyn read it together and cursed under their breath. “I truly do  _ not  _ wish to defend the West, but this does not look good.”


	16. Genna II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genna and Selwyn prepare for their wedding.

It was 285 and nine moons into Selwyn’s reign. They had to push back the date of the wedding to afford Selwyn and Oberyn time to travel to Dorne in a bid to suppress war. For now, Dornish vassals refrained from moving northwest, but no one on the small council felt the matter resolved. Oberyn had spoken warningly.

_‘My people are passionate and thirst for vengeance when attacked. They will not forget, but they know we are watching. I fear they only wish to dispel rumors and ensure the crown’s forces don’t intercede. They’ll try to move quietly now.’_

In truth, Genna didn’t mind the delayed wedding; only Tywin did. Despite his written protest, Genna and Selwyn were unmoved. They both recognized their looming marriage for what it was and had forged a strong friendship in their moons together.

Selwyn had sought physical comfort with a secret mistress. Neither he nor the woman sought love from one another, but he was less _tense_ following such encounters, and Genna was glad for it. Still, there was no saving Selwyn from the despair the current day would bring. 

It was the anniversary of his wife’s death, and Genna worried at his emotional state that day. Unwilling to let him wallow in misery, Genna barged through the door of their adjoining room.

The curtains were drawn and kept the room unnaturally dark given the hour. She could smell the brandy in the air; her nose crinkling in distaste. On the side table, an empty jar of brandy and dirty snifter caught the sun’s rays poking through the curtains. Genna huffed and stomped forward to draw the curtains. 

Since Brienne’s name day, Selwyn had cut back substantially on the brandy, but he appeared to have overdone it last night. At the sudden light, Selwyn groaned on the bed. “Go away. Leave me to die.”

“You can’t die today. The baker is preparing sweets for us to sample.” Genna moved through the room and began tidying up as though a maid. 

“I don’t care what sweets you want. Just make sure they stock the cellars with more brandy.” Selwyn whined and threw a pillow over his head. He lay on top of the covers in naught by his smallclothes. Genna considered that he wasn’t a bad looking man. Selwyn was incredibly tall with broad shoulders, and he was relatively lean despite the large frame. His body lacked the impressive muscle definition possessed by many of the Kingsguard members, but still, he had the Warrior’s body. 

Moving towards the table nearest the hearth, Genna poured Selwyn a cup of water and brought it to him. “Here. This will help sort you out. You need a better way to cope. Even Ser Jon has quit the drink.”

Selwyn groaned, but did as he was bid. The pillow fell to the floor and he sat upright with great effort. “I might have overdone it last night”

Genna guffawed; the sound bouncing off the walls and causing Selwyn to grimace. “Not so loud, Genna.”

With a heavy sigh, Genna shook her head despairingly. She looked into Selwyn’s despondent eyes and felt a pang of sympathy. “This won’t bring her back. Trust me. I have to remind myself of the same on the anniversary of my boys’ deaths. I know it’s not easy, but you must find a better way.”

“I don’t know what to do. The casual sex and brandy feel good in the moment, but then… it’s back to this.”

Genna sighed at the admission. Unlike Barristan and Jaime, Selwyn spoke freely about his emotions. It was a welcome change, though there was nothing Genna looked forward to more than her time with Barristan. Genna enjoyed the challenge of extracting information from Barristan. It made each insight obtained feel earned; a secret knowledge imparted only to her.

Over the past year, something had shifted between them. Genna and Barristan were gentler with one another, and had grown close. Still, Genna knew Barristan withheld much information which seemed to pain him greatly. Despite his own painful past, Barristan continued to be there for Jaime. Whatever private words were exchanged between the two knights worked wonders for Jaime.

Jaime had never appeared happier. He had a strong bond with his sworn brothers, but his greatest friendship was developed with Arthur. It warmed Genna’s heart to see how the very knight who Jaime idolized and dreamed of becoming had taken Jaime under his wing. The two were joined at the hip, or at least they were whenever Arthur wasn’t with Lyanna.

For the first time since Joanna died, Jaime smiled freely. Until the last several moons, Genna had grown accustomed to Jaime’s false smiles; the smiles put on for court. When Jaime wasn’t forcing a courtly smile, he was donning a snide smile learned from Tywin. The _Lannister smile_ of arrogance and disregard. Genna was quite pleased to see _those_ smiles disappear. Now Jaime offered genuine smiles.

As Genna stared at Selwyn, she shook her head. “You need to pull it together for Brienne! This day is no easier for her, and yet you hide away stinking of the drink.”

Selwyn grimaced at the mention of Brienne. “She has my wife’s eyes.” 

“Don’t think of it as a painful reminder! Think of it as a piece of your wife still with the pair of you. This isn't Brienne’s fault. Did you hear her knocking on the door the other night? I went into the hall and she was just standing there with a book in hand. She needs you.”

Selwyn pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seven hells. I didn’t hear. Is she alright?”

“I offered to read, but she said my voice wasn’t deep enough to properly do the male character’s. Barristan took Brienne back to her room and read to her. You have no idea how frazzled Barristan was! That man must have two guards stationed at your door unless it’s the overnight shift. _It’s tradition_!” Genna snorted as she emphasized the last phrase. Both Selwyn and Genna had become very accustomed to hearing it from Barristan over the past nine moon turns.

Selwyn chuckled at the words, and Genna smiled at the sight. Knowing how hard the day was going to be for Selwyn, it was good to see him smile. “Come on now! Up! I want some cake.”

“It’s too early for cake.” The tone reminded Genna of Jaime’s little tantrums as a boy. 

_Ugh the whining._

“It is midday! You’ve slept through half your schedule. Lucky for you, I knew the day would be difficult, and I cleared it out in advance.” 

At the words, Selwyn’s eyes went wide. “It’s midday! Seven hells.”

“Yes, I had to break my fast with Olenna. I adore the woman, but she makes my House seem compromising by comparison.” 

Once more Selwyn chuckled at the words. Every morning, Selwyn and Genna ate together. Their days were filled with much of the same activities, so it was both convenient and a nice constant to have. Jaime never made time to eat with Genna in the morning. The sworn brothers preferred to start their day together, and Genna did not wish to begrudge him that. 

When Selwyn was ready to leave the dreary room behind, they stepped into the hallway and were greeted by the on-duty Kingsguard. Arthur and Barristan bowed in greeting, but of course, Arthur was _himself_. Raising a brow, he spoke teasingly. 

“Quite a late start to the day. I do hope it was a _relaxing_ morning for you.”

Genna almost laughed at the assumed cause of delay. If he only knew how little of _that_ there was. In truth, only Selwyn and Genna knew of their arrangement. The mistress that Selwyn had taken would sneak in before the guards and Selwyn returned from supper. Selwyn smiled and japed on _those_ nights. “I’ll take dessert in my room.”

At Arthur’s comment, Selwyn guffawed loudly, but Genna noticed Barristan’s awkwardness at the topic. His ears reddened and he glanced away as though willing the walls to swallow him whole. 

Unfortunately for Genna, she was feeling things for Barristan that were quite dangerous. She had always thought him a very handsome man, and Barristan was definitely her type, though her feelings had to remain unspoken. 

As they walked the hallway, Genna glanced over her shoulder and smirked at Arthur. “How is Lady Lyanna?”

The younger pair had struck up a secret romance over the last moon turns. Genna wasn’t certain why they were hiding it, but it amused her nonetheless. In private, Arthur had admitted the truth of the relationship to Barristan, Jaime, and Jon. He planned to ask for Lyanna’s hand, but Arthur worried at how her House might react. 

Like the rest of the Kingsguard, Arthur had no lands to offer as a Kingsguard, and Lyanna was meant to live at Storm’s End long term. With a small shrug, Arthur played at ignorance. “How is Lady Olenna or Lady Catelyn or Lady…”

“Very well, Ser Arthur. Play your game.” Genna cut Arthur off and tried to catch Barristan’s eye, but he was staring intently at the floor as they walked. With her hand on the crook of Selwyn’s elbow, Genna smiled politely at everyone they passed. 

They entered the small dining hall where the chef waited with small platters of cake as instructed. Genna loved sweets and was looking for an excuse to indulge; the wedding being a perfect opportunity. Barristan and Arthur stood at their backs as Genna and Selwyn took their seats. 

Leaning into Selwyn’s ear, Genna offered warning. “Now be nice, Sel! The man is humoring my contrived need to sample the cakes. I already know the flavor I want.”

Selwyn chuckled at the words. “What? Lemon cake? I like that one best.”

Genna scoffed and swatted his arm. “Some friend you are. Ser Barristan, tell this man what my favorite cake flavor is.”

“Apple cake, your Grace.” Barristan spoke absently to Selwyn as the staff brought out water and plates for the small samples the chef was carrying to them.

“See!” Genna reprimanded Selwyn. “Even your Lord Commander pays attention.”

Arthur chuckled loudly at Barristan’s side and hit his arm; his tone dripped with commiseration. “Do you have a choice?”

Genna turned to reprimand Arthur, but the smirk and knowing nod from Barristan redirected her ire onto him. “I’m sorry, Selmy, but do you have something to add? Shall I stop bringing you candied pecans from the kitchen?”

Arthur struggled to contain his laughter as he grabbed Barristan’s arm. “No! Not the pecans! What will you do?”

_Dolts. The pair of them._

“I see that smirk, Lord Commander. Consider the nuts gone.” Genna huffed and turned around, but she could hear them teasing at her back. Their pathetic attempts to whisper still reaching her ears

Barristan snickered as he spoke in hushed tones to Arthur. “My nuts are gone.” 

“They’re gone. No more Barristan the Bold.”

_Why do I even like that man? There are many available options here at court. Instead, my traitorous stomach flutters when that awful, chaste man is around._

As the chef began placing samples on their plates, Genna smiled widely. The pastries were delicious and inwardly, Genna wished that she could have a little of everything. True to his word, Selwyn didn’t much care. An attendant soon came over and spoke quietly to Selwyn.

“Shall I have Princess Brienne continue to wait in your room for lunch?”

_What!?_

Genna’s eyes went wide at the words. “Brienne is waiting there now? I didn’t know she was to have lunch with his Grace today. I would not have scheduled this.” Glancing at Selwyn, Genna saw the guilt on his face.

“I think… I think I agreed last night at supper. I can’t recall…”

_Gods dammit, Selwyn!_

“Please, can you plate some cake for the princess? We’ll bring it to her.” Genna glared at Selwyn and stood quickly from her chair. “You’ll not miss another lunch with her!”

Selwyn had been making more of an effort to take meals with Brienne since her name day debacle. While Genna was pleased by the improvement, it was the rare brandy-induced forgetfulness that irked her. 

When the chef returned, Genna smiled warmly. “This was lovely. I’d like the apple cake for the wedding. Thank you.”

They made their way quickly through the Keep with Genna grumbling as they went. They soon arrived back at the royal apartments, and Jaime was leaning against the wall outside. He righted himself at their approach and bowed to Selwyn in greeting. The king moved inside quickly and Genna shut the door behind them, leaving the three Kingsguard in the hallway.

_Gods. The worst three to put together out there. Troublesome men._

“Sweetling, I’m sorry! Wedding things…” Selwyn tried to offer an explanation, but there was no need. There never was.

Brienne was an accepting child, and she had very low expectations of others behavior towards her. Genna wasn’t certain if it was Brienne’s nature, or merely a reflection of her unfortunate upbringing. At five and a half, Brienne was tall for her age and not a child that court considered beautiful. Genna felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. 

“It’s alright. I know you’re busy.” Brienne spoke softly from the table as the Septa sat to her side. 

Genna couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about the Septa that seemed off. For moons she kept an eye on the woman, but it was impossible to be there at all hours given her own responsibilities. The way the Septa carried herself, and the facial expressions cast at Brienne left Genna wondering what went on behind closed doors. The only reprieve the young girl had was when the Septa went on lunch, and Brienne eagerly dragged the Kingsguard on duty to the yards for training. 

Standing from her seat, Septa Roelle curtseyed. “Your Grace. I’ll take my lunch now and come to collect the Princess when you’re done.”

With a nod of his head, Selwyn agreed to the plan. The staff entered with food for three and set everything out before them. Selwyn smiled and spoke imploringly. “A glass of wine or ale or anything will do.”

Genna kicked Selwyn under the table and narrowed her eyes. _Truly. Did we not just talk of this._

He huffed and muttered under his breath in reply. “Just one.”

“No.” Genna’s eyes were a warning, and Selwyn relented.

Turning his attention back to Brienne, Selwyn smiled. “How was your morning?”

Holding up her bloodied fingers in demonstration, Brienne frowned. “I still can’t get the stitches correct.”

Genna grimaced and noted Selwyn sharing in a similar reaction. He winced and tried to offer encouragement. “Perhaps you’ll be good at… something else.”

Brienne’s eyes darted between them and she spoke cautiously. “I… I was thinking that if I could enter one tourney when I get better with a sword...”

“No.” Selwyn’s reply was short, and Brienne immediately deflated. 

“Yes. Apologies.” 

Genna’s heart broke for the young girl. Granted, it would be unbecoming for a young princess to enter a tourney with the squires, but she did love to spar. It was the only time that Genna saw her truly smile. 

_Should I say something? Would it be out of turn?_

A long stretch of silence settled over the table. Lowering her fork, Genna opened her mouth to speak, but Selwyn spoke first. 

“Do you recall what I told you of the wedding? It’s to be in a moon turn now.” Selwyn appraised Brienne as he spoke. The young girl nodded slowly in understanding. 

“Lord Viserys is attending. I’d like for you to spend some time with the young man. He is technically your second... no, third cousin? I don’t really know, but you’re reasonably close in age. I do believe he just turned nine.”

Brienne nodded dutifully, but said nothing in reply. At her side, Selwyn continued. “I would also ask you to spend time with Lord Garlan. He is Lady Olenna’s grandson and of age to Viserys; perhaps a year younger. Both boys may be a match for you some day among other options.”

Selwyn gave a knowing glance to Genna. They both knew of Tywin’s desire to see Jaime and Brienne wed. Genna struggled to see a match between them given their age difference, but marriages had been made on greater gaps. In truth, she knew that it would never work. Jaime would never agree to the match, and Genna thought it for the best. She wanted both Jaime and Brienne to find love. 

Both Selwyn and Genna had discussed as much in the past. Selwyn felt a debt to both Jaime and Tywin. He wanted to do right by them, but he also needed to prepare for the inevitable rejection of the match by Jaime when the topic was raised. As such, Selwyn considered young boys closer in age to Brienne who might make a reasonable husband. 

Varys continued to push for a match between Brienne and Viserys. He believed that with enough time, the fear of a mad Targaryen sitting on the throne would pass. The Spider also hoped it might prevent future war if a House attempted to leverage Viserys’ claim for their own gain. 

Selwyn had made much progress in the people’s eyes, and the realm was at peace. While he wanted to maintain that peace, he also wanted what was best for Brienne. Unfortunately, Selwyn shared in Genna’s concern that she may struggle to find love. She was a sweet, but awkward child. In the past year, her appearance did not improve and her struggles at court became more apparent.

For as graceful as Brienne was in the yards, she could not master the curtsey or speak confidently in public. The other week she fell flat on her face before all of court, and it broke Genna’s heart. Now as she studied the girl, Genna sighed despairingly. 

“Perhaps I can have a lovely dress made for you. Would you like that?” Genna smiled warmly at the young girl.

Something clouded Brienne’s eyes as she looked up slowly. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“What? Of course you do! You’re a princess; not a prince.” Selwyn scoffed and shook his head in dismay. 

Brienne grimaced and worried at her lip. There was a fresh scab from biting the bottom lip at one side, and Genna thought Brienne might gnaw straight through if she kept it up. “It’s just that… I would prefer breeches.”

“You love dresses! You were constantly asking for them on Tarth. I nearly had to hire a permanent seamstress given how often you tore the dresses while playing.” Selwyn sat back and stared at Brienne as though she’d lost her mind.

Brienne nodded slowly, but Genna noted the slightly quiver of her chin. “I just don’t look pretty in them.”

_What? How can a girl of five consider such things?_

“Don’t say such things, sweetling. You’ll wear a dress.” Selwyn picked up his fork and began jabbing at his meal. Stilling his hand, Genna narrowed her eyes at Brienne. 

“Who told you that?”

Selwyn looked at Genna strangely. “She said that she _prefers_ the breeches. It’s her own opinion, albeit false.” 

“No. No child of five would consider themselves pretty or ugly in clothing unless someone told them as much. I don’t think five-year-olds are capable of such self-reflection.”

At Genna’s stern words, Selwyn startled and glanced back at Brienne. “Did someone tell you that nonsense?”

With both adults staring at her, Brienne began to panic. “It’s nothing. I’ll wear the dress.” 

“Tell me, child. Did someone say that you didn’t look pretty?” Selwyn leaned forward, but Genna could see that his reaction was only causing Brienne to fret. 

Leaning forward as she pulled Selwyn backwards, Genna spoke softly to Brienne. “No one will be in trouble, Brienne. We’re just… curious. It’s a strange thing to say. Can you please tell me?” 

_So that I know who to kill._

“Just a couple of children from court. I don’t know their names, but it’s alright. Ser Jaime told them to fuck off.” 

Genna’s jaw dropped and she quickly covered her mouth. A slow smile tugged at her lips, but it would be improper to laugh. Glancing at Selwyn, Genna leaned back. 

_Best to let her father handle this after all._

Without a word, Selwyn stood up from the table and marched towards the door. Genna’s eyes went wide, and she worried at what was to happen. 

_By the seven, if he yells at my nephew for being vulgar, I’ll kick him in the shin._

Yanking open the door, Selwyn pointed into the room. “In, please.” 

The confused Kingsguards slowly stepped inside the room. Jaime’s eyes met Genna and she grimaced.

_Run, chid. The man is large and I can only delay his pursuit._

Selwyn shut the door behind them and grabbed Jaime by the elbow, pulling him towards the table. Genna gripped the arms of her chair and prepared to defend her nephew in the matter at hand. “Now Selwyn…”

Despite the warning in Genna’s tone, Selwyn directed his full attention at Jaime. “My daughter is not wanting to wear a dress to my wedding with your aunt. She claims to not look pretty in them because some miserable shits told her as much. She claims that you told them to ‘fuck off’. Do I have the right of it?”

Genna’s eyes darted to Barristan and Arthur who stood at Jaime's back. Barristan looked hoffiried at the situation, but Arthur began to clap slowly. “Yes, young lion! Oh I hope your tore their fucking heads off.”

“Perhaps it was not the most tactful…” Jaime began to defend himself, but Selwyn’s hand shot up. 

“You misunderstand. My issue is not with your words. I want to know who said it. My daughter doesn't know the names. Do you?”

Genna sank back in her chair in relief. Her eyes darted to Brienne who appeared ready to cry. The words tumbled from her lips like a prayer. “Please don’t.” 

At her weak request, the men looked to her in surprise. “Don’t!?” Selwyn scoffed. “These children insulted you!”

“I don’t mind. I just want someone to play with. If you yell at them...” Brienne stared at her lap and stopped talking. 

Without taking his eyes off Brienne, Selwyn spoke challengingly. “Ser Jaime… the names.”

Jaime grimaced; his eyes darting between Selwyn and Brienne. Genna understood his predicament. As a young boy at the Rock, Jaime struggled finding children to play with who were willing to risk offense to the son and heir of a Great House. On one occasion, a boy accidentally struck Jaime in the yards while playing, and Tywin was livid. He had a guard hit the boy, and Jaime raged at his father afterwards. _‘No one will play with me if you do that! We were just having fun, and now he’ll hate me! I’ll have no one to play with.’_

Tywin had only raised a warning hand at Jaime and narrowed his eyes. After a moment, he imparted his fatherly _wisdom_ . _‘A lion does not concern himself with the opinion of sheep.’_

Taking a deep breath, Jaime glanced at Brienne once more. “A Kingsguard keeps his princess’s secrets.” 

“What!? That is not how the vow goes. You are to keep _my_ secrets.” Selwyn scoffed and looked to Barristan and Arthur for aid. Both men seemed to understand what Jaime was doing, and Genna was thrilled when Barristan of all people shrugged innocently. “It is a bit open to interpretation, I suppose.” 

“The three of you are useless. I would never harm a child. I’m not…” 

_Aerys. He was going to say Aerys._

The three men flinched at the unspoken name. Selwyn took a steadying breath and spoke slowly. “I’m not cruel. I only mean to have words with the child.”

“And your daughter doesn't want that.” Genna supplied from the table. “Though… if this same child or children are so foolish as to say something again, he or she must be dealt with. Do you understand that, Brienne?”

Brienne nodded eagerly, and Genna smiled at the relief in her eyes. At the agreement, Selwyn sighed and shook his head. “Very well. Traitors… the lot of you.”

Resuming his seat, Selwyn reached for his cup of water. An excited expression stretched across Brienne’s face and she glanced at Jaime. With a small wink at the young girl, Jaime turned to leave with his sworn brothers.

_That’s my nephew. Good boy._

* * *

The next day, Genna screamed with excitement when the smith found her. “My lady, the armor finally came in. Again, apologies for the delay. Some of the materials took longer than usual to source.”

“Please, have it all brought straight away to the White Sword Tower. I’ll be right there.” 

_Finally! Some color to brighten that dull tower. The men will look so sharp!_

Once Genna finished her tea, she rushed to the White Sword Tower. The items were being set out on the main level, and Genna grabbed a set of armor and new attire. “Is this Ser Jaime’s?”

_He’ll be my first test for the new ensemble._

The seamstress set out each man’s things with the smith’s help, and together, they found Jaime’s. Genna grabbed Jaime’s new items and rushed upstairs to the third floor, but he was nowhere to be found… nor was Arthur… nor was Jon. 

When Arys joined, Barristan finally had to move into the Lord Commander’s quarters on the fourth floor. Barristan asked Arthur to take his old room so that he could be of aid to Jaime at night, but of late, Jaime suffered no nightmares.

_Gods dammit. Where is everyone?_

Genna knew that Arys and Brynden were on duty and guarding Selwyn. With no desire to endure Lyn, Genna grabbed Barristan’s things. Making her way to the top level, she burst into his study.

Barristan startled and leapt from his chair. “By the gods, Genna! Do you know how to knock?”

“Oh relax. You’re just doing paperwork.” Moving into the room, Genna placed everything on the table. “Come here. You have to try this on.”

Barristan groaned at the sight of the new armor and clothing. “I’m busy.”

Turning abruptly, Genna raised a brow. “I am to be the queen soon. Indulge me! I don’t ask much of you.”

Barristan guffawed. “Don’t _ask_ much? I suppose that is true. You _demand_ things of me.”

“Oh hush up, Selmy! This just came in and only Lyn is here. Don’t make me suffer through that.” Genna began to inspect the stitching on everything before glancing back at Barristan. “Come on! That outfit needs to come off.” 

Barristan’s eyes went wide. “I’ll not change with you in here.”

“Do you not wear smallclothes any longer?” Genna raised a challenging brow.

“Of course I do!” Barristan huffed in annoyance and grabbed the breeches and tunic being held towards him.

“Well you’ve gone swimming with me while wearing as much. Come on. I want to see the outfit. I’ll keep my back to you.”

Barristan grumbled, but did as instructed. While appraising the detailing on the jerkin, Genna heard the rustling of fabric at her back. 

Glancing over her shoulder she spoke impatiently. “Are you done yet?”

Barristan had the light grey breeches on, but the laces were undone and his tunic not yet on. As always, his body looked incredible and Genna’s heart sped. _Traitorous thing._

“No! You’re so impatient.” Barristan threw the tunic on and tucked it into the breeches. As he worked at the laces of his breeches, Genna turned to face him fully and smoothed out the tunic. 

She began to tie the laces of the tunic while admiring the style of it. Per her request, the neckline was v-shaped and dipped a touch lower than most tunics. Genna hated how uptight the high-cut, rounded tunics of the old uniform appeared. 

_Far too traditional. This is much better. They appeared devoid of necks before._

“I can dress myself just fine.” Barristan grumbled and batted Genna’s hand away gently, but Genna promptly ignored him and went back to the task of tying the laces herself. 

“You move too slowly. Here. Now the jerkin.” Genna held up the jerkin as she might for a child. Barristan grabbed it and grumbled once more.

When the azure jerkin was on him and tightened, Genna stepped back and smiled widely. The jerkin was well fitted and hugged his muscular frame. Three silver clasps kept the jerkin fastened at the center and ended just below the adjusted neckline of the tunic. The outfit was incredible and Genna clapped excitedly. “It’s perfect!”

As her eyes moved up Barristan’s body and landed on his eyes, her heart faltered. Her next thoughts died in her throat and were swallowed down instead. As she had teased moons ago, the blue brought out his eyes. She stared speechless for a moment, and the silence seemed to unsettle Barristan; his brows furrowed together and his eyes lowered to the outfit as though trying to find the issue.

“What!? I’m not doing another fitting, so it will have to stay this way.” Barristan complained as he assumed the silence reflective of an unspoken disapproval.

“No. It’s… it’s perfect.” Genna adjusted the top of the tunic one more, and forced herself to break eye contact. 

_Perhaps this azure was a bad idea. Now I’ll act more of a fool around him._

The tension was palpable as Genna’s fingers lingered a moment past propriety. Barristan stepped back and cleared his throat. 

“Good so it’s done then. I don’t wish to endure any more fittings or restylings.”

Turning to the table, Genna handed him the new armor. “The smith said this set is yours. Go on then. You men insist on wearing this clunky stuff.”

“We are knights. It’s fairly important if one desires staying alive.” 

It didn’t stop other knights from dying, and Genna feared harm befalling Jaime someday. Then Genna recalled Barristan’s battlescars from the day at the beach.

“I seem to recall word of your near death despite the armor.”

Barristan sighed and appraised the new armor. “Well we don’t wear full body armor. Everyone has exposed flesh and known weakness.”

The thought unnerved Genna. She didn’t want to think of Jaime exposed in battle. 

“Is Barristan the Bold admitting to having a weakness?” Genna raised a challenging brow, but she was surprised when he only shrugged.

“It would have been an honorable death.”

Genna’s eyes went wide and she grabbed his face. “Don’t you ever tell my nephew that! I don’t see the honor in dying for some silly squabble between lords, or for the decrees of madmen! I want Jaime to live a long, happy life.”

Thoughts of her sons dying in battle flashed in Genna’s mind. She didn’t want to lose anyone else to the sword. Jaime was brave and reckless. Her greatest fear was hearing a tale of him charging blindly towards death to do something ‘honorable’.

Barristan stared at Genna dumbfounded. “I’ve never said such things to him.”

“But you believe it! You think such death _honorable_. I’ll not lose another of my family members to the field of battle.”

Barristan stammered in reply; his eyes darting around the room as though seeking aid from Genna’s reprimand. “I… I only meant it for me. I’d not encourage him to consider doing as much. But he… he is a knight and Kingsguard. It is a bit of an occupational hazard.”

“He is a boy! Boys should not die in the mud before they have a chance to experience life!” Genna felt her hands tremble in a mix of grief and rage. Her eyes watered and it felt like the walls were closing in. Every time she thought to have grieved enough for her sons, tears fell anew.

Genna didn’t intend to take the pain of her loss out on Barristan. Like Jaime, Barristan merely followed orders as a knight. Were it not for a skilled healer, Barristan would have died in the same war as her sons.

Barristan’s voice lowered to a near mumble. “I’m sorry. I don’t have kin to mourn my death, so I didn’t think about the comment. I’d not wish that kind of death on Jaime. I’m sorry you lost your sons that way.”

The mention of her sons made the tears spill from Genna’s eyes. She glanced away and tried to compose herself. Before her, Barristan shifted awkwardly on his feet. He seemed uncertain what to do and patted her arm gently. “I’m sorry.”

Genna almost laughed at the absurdity of Barristan’s awkward attempt to offer comfort. She stepped close and wrapped her arms around him. When Barristan returned the embrace, Genna let the remaining tears fall as her mind conjured images of her sons’ faces. When the memories returned, they were always of young boys rather than the men they became; innocent, smiling, and energetic.

Something about being held by Barristan was comforting; it felt like where she belonged. Her head tucked under his chin perfectly and pressed against his neck and chest. Genna considered that aside from embracing her children and kin, she hadn’t hugged anyone in such an intimate fashion. She certainly did not embrace Emmon in such a way. 

The warmth of Barristan’s body and scent of his skin made Genna melt into his arms. In the recesses of her mind, Genna knew that she should break the embrace, but Barristan’s arms seemed to keep the painful memories at bay.

At first, Barristan’s body had felt tense when Genna pressed against him, but he had softened almost immediately. With his arms firmly around Genna and his left hand gripping her arm, Barristan’s thumb caressed her softly. 

_I wish it was Barristan that I was to marry. The gods could give me no such happiness though. I have my nephews to care for at least. I won’t lose them to more war. I’ll do my duty and work with Selwyn to keep the peace in the realm._


	17. Viserys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys returns to King's Landing for the wedding of Selwyn and Genna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to double post today with the next chapter (Jaime POV)

Viserys glanced around the table and raised a brow at Lord Jon. The staff had placed Jon’s plate before him with the meat already cut into bite-sized pieces. Whether on account of his stump or missing teeth, Viserys was not certain, though he knew that Lady Cersei hated it. The lord’s wife always scrunched her nose in distaste when the staff did things to aid their lord.

_I should be king, but instead I’m watching this old man struggle to eat._

Viserys had been at the Eyrie for nearly a year and he despised it. He wanted to be in King’s Landing or Dragonstone; the holdings of his ancestors. Dragonstone was his favorite place, because it was there that the servants whispered that he would become king. HIs brother was dead on the battlefield, and he was heir. The Kingsguard had looked at him strangely then; Ser Arthur and Ser Jon. 

_They were supposed to vow themselves to me. They failed me as all the others did. They were supposed to protect me and my father, but they all failed, and now I’m stuck with these wretched people._

In truth, the young wife was not so bad. She would slip into his room and night and tell him tales of his brave family. Her eyes sparkled like the wildfire his father used to punish the traitors and worthless citizens. At night, she called him king. _Your Grace_.

_‘I was supposed to marry your brother, you Grace, but some terrible people forbade it. They said that our babes would be so perfect that even the Stranger himself would quake before them. They said there must be balance in the world, so they refused the match. Do you know what I think, your Grace?... I think they were saving me for you. When you come of age, we will wed and reclaim your throne, but it must be our secret. Lord Jon is old and will die. I refuse to give him more children. When you are older, my womb will hold only little princes. Little dragons.’_

Viserys liked the idea. He liked their secret. It became a game between them. They could not use his _proper_ title around the staff, Lord Jon, or Jasper. Cersei had to pretend to dislike Viserys, or Lord Jon might cast him out. Viserys had to stay at the Eyrie, so that he could have an army when the time came. 

The night prior, a missive came from King’s Landing and Lord Jon had called Viserys into his study. 

_Last night_

“Lord Viserys, please come in and have a seat.” Jon smiled and extended a hand towards the empty chair across the table from where he and Cersei sat. The young wife played at cool indifference, but inwardly, Viserys knew what he was to her. _Your Grace._

Taking a seat, Viserys looked blankly at Jon as the old lord spoke. “I’ve received word from the capital. We are to journey there soon for the wedding of King Selwyn Tarth and Lady Genna Lannister; my wife’s aunt. 

Viserys felt his blood boil at the words. King Selwyn Tarth. The false king. The man who destroyed his family and stole Viserys’ throne. He heard those whispers on Dragonstone too. Cersei whispered of it in the dark of night to remind Viserys.

_‘They killed your nephew. They killed your goodsisters. They killed your father and brother.’_

_Goodsisters_. The phrase had struck him odd, and Viserys took to the library when no one was around. He could read on his own since he was seven, but the words came slowly. Viserys read tales of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives. He read of King Maegor and his many wives, as well as other Targaryens who sired many babes; trueborn and bastard. 

_I will have hundreds of Valyrian children. They’ll become my army and protect me from future treason._

Now as he sat before Jon, Viserys listened to the provided information. Jon rambled from across the desk, but Viserys watched the subtle changes in Cersei’s facial expressions. Then he saw rage.

“King Selwyn might consider you a match for Princess Brienne if he sees indication of your improved behavior. As we’ve discussed, we need to continue working through your actions. You’ve been better of late, but a boy of your age should be taking on more responsibility. Serving as a page perhaps. I might inquire about a position for you in King’s Landing when you reach ten.”

Cersei swallowed thickly and looked to Jon from the corner of her eyes. “A page? Would that not be offensive to Lord Viserys? He is of House Targaryen, after all. A Great House.”

Jon’s brows furrowed at the words and he shook his head. “Lord Viserys holds no lands, and his family was removed from the throne on account of their madness and destruction. To be a page in King’s Landing would honor him, and it might allow him the opportunity to make a fine match. Perhaps, he might even make a match with the princess. House Stark and House Baratheon sent me their sons as wards. There is no insult when Great Houses host one another’s children. It is an honor.”

Taking a calming breath, Cersei made her next point while staring at Viserys. “I understand, though what I mean to say is that he is already being fostered here. Lord Viserys has made much progress, and it might upset him to be in the same Keep where King Selwyn _took_ the throne.”

Jon lifted his fingers defensively while keeping his wrist on the table. “The matter is not for debate. I will have a conversation with Lord Selwyn about the possibilities when we arrive for the wedding. I’m quite eager to speak with him and Ned.”

At the mention of Ned, Cersei’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. The sight of it thrilled Viserys. He knew the sensation as he felt it on many occasions. Viserys was fascinated by the moon door and tales of past executions committed by hurling victims from it. An excited surge ran through his body at the tales, and he wished to see it done. 

When Lord Jon went to visit a vassal one day and the Keep was quiet, Viserys threw one of the household cats through the moon door. He loved the sound that the animal made as it squirmed in his hands before being thrown to its death. He wondered what else he could make fly. Jasper perhaps.

Once Jon was done informing Viserys of what would happen, he was excused from the room. That night, Cersei slipped into Viserys’ room as she often did. Kneeling by his bed, she whispered into the darkness. 

“My family is in that city, and they are prisoners there. The false king, Selwyn, stole your family’s crown after making certain they were all dead. Don’t you find it odd that he was there that night during the siege, and every other member of your family is dead except Daenerys. He would have killed you too, but my father stopped him. He said it would upset the people to lose you. You won’t be safe there. When we go, make certain the princess does not like you as a match. It will keep you here and safe while we find a way to overthrow them. To reclaim your crown. Why would you marry the girl whose father killed your family? You can’t trust her.”

The words made sense, and Viserys knew what he had to do. He had to ensure the princess knew what a treasonous man her father was, and she was unworthy of marrying a true king like him. He could not stay in King’s Landing with his family’s murderers. 

* * *

Weeks had passed and Viserys had just arrived in King’s Landing. He stared up at the Iron Throne as House Arryn walked through the Keep at the backs of Lord Ned, Lady Catelyn, and staff members. They were placed in the guest wing and Viserys felt a familiar rage stir deep within. He should have been in the royal apartments where he grew up. He should have been the one welcoming guests to _his_ castle. 

Jon held Jasper in his arms and smiled widely as he spoke with the Lord Hand. He was always showing the young boy off and it was irritating to watch. Viserys hated Jasper. The boy was over praised and adored by the staff at the Eyrie. Personally, Viserys didn’t see anything quite so special about Jasper. Were it not for the loyalty to Cersei, Viserys would have considered harming Jasper sooner.

Viserys walked towards the balcony and listened as Ned and Jon spoke at his back. The wedding would be on the morrow. Their group from the Vale had been delayed on account of Jasper catching sickness which delayed their departure. Cersei had raged at the limited time it would afford her to visit House Lannister in the city. Viserys remembered her twin, Ser Jaime, though he did not remember Lord Tywin, her father.

_Are they loyal to me too? Will they give me some sign? Cersei says they blamed Jaime for my father’s death, but it was Selwyn’s lie. It doesn’t match the tale of how Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime fought for my kin in Maegor’s Holdfast. Surely they are loyal too._

That night, a large feast was held. Viserys gripped his fork tightly in hand when the false king spoke and welcomed the dignitaries. Viserys hated everything about the man; his voice, appearance, laugh, and his daughter. The girl at his side was the ugliest little girl that Viserys had ever seen. 

_They would insult me by wedding me to that? I am the last true dragon._

Across the hall, House Martell sat with Viserys’ baby sister in their arms. Daenerys was one, but already much prettier than the ugly girl they called ‘princess’. As the feast grew loud and the adults drank their wine and ale, Viserys watched. He watched for signs of loyalty from his former Kingsguard. 

Ser Jaime stood behind the ugly princess, but he was staring at Cersei. _Surely he is loyal and awaiting some signal from her. He must be trustworthy._

Ser Arthur stood good behind the false king, but he kept smiling and mouthing words to a woman sitting with the Lord Hand. _Something is wrong with Ser Arthur. What is that strange expression on his face?_

Ser Jonothor stood behind the false king, but his eyes followed the jugs of wine and ale being carried around by the staff. _He looks upset about something. They must be holding him prisoner too._

Ser Barristan stood behind Cersei’s aunt, but he spent much of the time staring at his feet or the back wall. _He is definitely a prisoner. The man looks miserable. He’ll be loyal to me._

The other Kingsguard were unknown to Viserys, but they were stern looking men who smiled as infrequently as Ned Stark. Viserys wondered if Selwyn was secretly torturing them all. 

Then Viserys watched the false king and Cersei’s aunt. They seemed to get along quite well. Both spoke to one another much more frequently than Viserys’ parents had. _They must not like each other. That isn’t how marriage works. Theirs will fail._

As the hour grew late, the youngest children were brought to bed by their septas. The ugly princess was among them, and Ser Jaime immediately glanced at Cersei once the child was gone. Viserys watched as Cersei turned to Jon and spoke sweetly. “I’ll take Jasper to bed. You enjoy the feast. I'm quite tired.”

_This is it! The signal. She is going to discuss reclaiming my throne with Ser Jaime._

Jon smiled and leaned over to kiss Cersei. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

At the act, Viserys’ face scrunched in distaste. He knew Cersei hated when Jon kissed her almost as much as she hated when the staff babied him at the Eyrie. As Cersei and Jasper left, Viserys watched a strange look passed between Cersei and Ser Jaime.

“Lord Jon, may I go to bed too? I’m rather tired.” Viserys put on his sweetest act, and the older lord smiled widely. “Yes, of course. Lady Cersei just took Jasper, so she’ll be there to tend to you. Sleep well.”

_Perfect. Now I can hear what the plan is._

Moving quickly through the hallway, Viserys caught sight of Ser Jaime’s billowing white cloak as he walked. The path he followed was leading to the room assigned to Lord Jon, and Viserys nearly screamed with delight. 

Turning the last hallway to his room, Viserys watched the door close behind Ser Jaime as he stepped into Lord Jon’s chambers. A wide smile spread across Viserys’ face as he reached the room and grabbed the door handle. Muffled voices inside made him take pause. 

_Will they meet here or are the other loyalists planning to meet them elsewhere?_

Opening the door, Visery peered into the darkness and saw Cersei shove her twin away. When Cersei recognized it was Viserys, she clutched at her chest and paled. For his part, Ser Jaime’s eyes looked guilty. Viserys narrowed his eyes questioningly and wondered if they, like House Targaryen, wed brother to sister. Suddenly the glances exchanged in the great hall seemed more meaningful. 

“You needn’t worry. It’s only me. Where are the others?”

Wordlessly, Cersei began to shake her head in refute; a silent plea to stop talking. Her eyes were wide and despairing, but her twin’s eyes narrowed in question. “Others?”

“For the meeting. You’re loyal to me. Are you not? Lady Cersei says you are.”

Ser Jaime’s eyes narrowed and he stepped towards Viserys. In a panic, Cersei reached out and grabbed Jaime’s arm desperately. “Jaime, wait. He’s just a boy sent to bed. Let me settle him in the nursery with Jasper.”

Shrugging her off, Jaime approached. “What meeting?”

In the attached nursery, Jasper began to call out for Cersei as he often did when startled from sleep. Cersei cursed under her breath and called out for Jaime to wait. Her tone was imploring as she rushed to the nursery door to close it completely; the door having been left open a crack.

Staring in confusion at Jaime, Viserys spoke as though the answer was obvious. “To retake my crown.”

“Viserys! Enough!” Cersei snarled at him, but quickly collected herself, taking a steadying breath.

Fire mixed with blood in Viserys’ veins. “ _Your Grace…_ that is what you meant to say. Don’t wake the dragon, or you’ll not be my wife.”

At the words, Ser Jaime straightened and his jaw went slack. “What did you say?”

“Jaime, stop it. You need to get out! This day has been overwhelming for him. He hasn’t been here in some time.”

Once more, Cersei reached out for her twin’s arm, but Jaime shrugged it away. His head turned slowly and his jaw clenched. Talking a step towards Cersei, he snarled at her. “Why would a boy of nine think that you’re to be his wife?”

Viserys watched as Cersei smiled sweetly and cupped her brother’s face. It was strangely affectionate, and Viserys thought it odd. He had never known Cersei to be gentle of touch with anyone.

“I’ll come see you in a bit. Go to your room, and I’ll be right there. I need to get Lord Viserys to bed.”

 _This miserable bitch._ “Call me, _your Grace_.”

Jaime turned his attention back to Viserys “ _His Grace_ is still at the feast. You are no king.”

Viserys felt his fists clench at his side. He glared at Jaime before his eyes darted to Cersei. “You lied to me. Your brother is not loyal. Are you a liar too?”

At the words, Jaime grabbed him by the jerkin. His fingers curled around the fabric and tugged Viserys close. “Careful boy. I am loyal to the true king; King Selwyn Tarth. I killed your father for threatening innocents; people I don’t even know. Imagine what I would do to you if you harmed people I love.” 

“If you threaten me, I’ll tell Lord Jon what I saw here.”

Jaime’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword, but Cersei stilled it. “Let me handle this! I said, go to your room, Jaime. It will be fine. I’ll see you soon.”

Without another word, Jaime stormed past Viserys and slammed the door as he went. Jasper cried out from the adjoining nursery, and Cersei sank into a chair; her hands cupped her face in despair. 

“You lied to me.” Viserys felt the fire returning in his heart.

“No.” Cersei glanced up to meet Viserys’ eyes. Her emeralds sparkled dangerously. “I lied to him. I lied to him _for you_.” 

Viserys’ eyes narrowed in confusion. Taking a deep breath, Cersei shook her head. “He is in love with me, though I do not feel the same for him. I’ve been playing into his game so that he may do my bidding for you. I’ve encouraged him to wed the princess so that he can be close to her and her father. I ordered him to kill them, so that he may clear the path to the throne for us. You and me.”

At the words, the tension left Viserys’ shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to concern yourself with the details. As I told you, to the kingdoms we must remain indifferent to one another. I must play at dutiful wife to Jon until you come of age. I must play at interest with my twin so that he does what I tell him. Now I have to go fix things with him.”

With Jasper still screaming in the nursery, Cersei rose from her seat and went to calm the boy. Viserys considered her words. He would give her another chance, but if she lied or withheld information again, he just might shove her through the Moon Door. 


	18. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the wedding day/night. Jaime reacts to Cersei and Viserys (the night before the wedding) and then considers what the marriage truly means for Genna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting this and the prior chapter (Viserys POV)

Walking quickly towards the gardens, Jaime’s heart pumped rapidly from a mix of rage, hurt, and confusion. After the encounter with Viserys, it made sense why Cersei was uninterested in Jaime obtaining Selwyn’s allowance for their union. She truly did want the throne more than him, and it hurt to think on. Jaime’s heart had shattered when the door closed leaving Cersei with her mad Targaryen ward. 

Jaime choked back sobs and moved down the darkened pathways of the gardens. Unsheathing his sword, Jaime gripped the hilt tightly and swung hard at every tree trunk and shrub he passed. When his arms grew tired and his emotions calmed, Jaime walked further into the gardens to reflect on everything. 

Soon Jaime came upon the section of the gardens where his aunt was often found. While she enjoyed sitting under the shade of a massive tree, Jaime preferred sitting on the ledge of the nearby fountain. Passing the bench and walking off the pathway, Jaime moved towards the pool of water that contained small fish and floating lily pads.

Rather than sit on the ledge as he ordinarily would, Jaime opted to lay on the ground and stare up at the stars. It was peaceful outside, and under the dark of night, no one could see his tears. Jaime wiped at his moist cheeks as he lay on his back and took calming breaths. He had not realized he was crying until he laid down and the moisture on his cheeks rolled backwards towards his ears. 

Jaime stared up at the stars and inhaled deeply. The temperature was comfortable, but Jaime lamented not stopping at his sleeping cell to remove the armor. As he lay on his back, he heard familiar voices in the distance. Turning his head to the right, Jaime saw Genna and Barristan approach. In the darkness, the distant torches cast just enough light to catch their light-colored hair, Barristan’s white cloak, and his white-gold armor.

At first, Jaime thought that Genna was laughing about something, but then he realized that his aunt was crying. Jaime felt the urge to offer her comfort, but before he could get up, he saw Barristan and Genna sit at the bench not far from him. The fountain obscured his body, and Jaime wondered if he should call out so as not to startle them. 

The fountain’s water had been still for some time, unlike the much larger fountains throughout the gardens which flowed continuously. Given the hour and limited foot traffic in the area, Barristan’s voice carried just enough to reach Jaime’s ears. 

“It’s going to be alright. I imagine it’s normal to be nervous before your wedding.”

The Lord Commander’s tone aimed for soothing, but Genna was beside herself. A bitter laugh pushed past her lips. “Of course, I’ve done _this_ before. It’s the same as it was with Emmon.”

Jaime’s heart sank at the words. He was the only one to know the truth of the betrothal and looming wedding. Yet again, Genna would have a political marriage; any opportunity for love cast aside so that Tywin could grasp at more power. 

“What with Emmon?” As Barristan spoke, Jaime lifted onto his elbows slightly. Jaime grumbled to himself and regretted not finding a more secluded spot for his own pouting. 

_We Lannisters are unlucky in love it would seem._

“I despised him. I was seven when we were betrothed, and two-and-ten when we wed. Of course, now I’m to have _another_ loveless marriage. At least Selwyn is a friend and won’t expect anything in way of wifely duties.” Genna’s tone was bitter and Jaime noticed a slight slurring of her words. He could tell that she was starting to feel her wine from the feast.

Barristan’s reply was barely audible, but Jaime could just make it out. “What? I thought you and Selwyn were quite happy.”

“In the past year, we’ve forged a strong friendship. I certainly was _not_ friends with Emmon. Selwyn is wonderful, but neither of us want this marriage. We certainly don’t want each other in any way other than friendship. He’s a good man, but... “ Genna’s words trailed off and Jaime couldn’t make them out. 

“But you… I stand guard. You both seem _content_.” At Barristan’s words, Jaime rolled his eyes. 

_They have an adjoining room. If they were doing all that, why bother with such a configuration?_

Genna laughed again, but this time there was amusement there. She wiped the tears away and shook her head. “Don’t be disgusting. You’re worse than Arthur. The only time I’ve been on Selwyn’s bed is to yank his drunken body from it. It’s…” Genna glanced around the gardens and lowered her voice.

“We’ve an arrangement.” 

At the words, Jaime heard the confusion in Barristan’s tone. “A what?”

“An arrangement. Selwyn made a deal with my brother. To save Brienne during the rebellion, Tywin required that Selwyn marry me and release Jaime from his vows. Selwyn and I were both in mourning. Me over my sons. Him over his wife and children. We agreed to a marriage in name only. He doesn’t wish to dishonor his wife’s memory by _truly_ taking another. He is content with his mistress who visits from time to time. As for me, I accepted the terms to keep Jaime safe and stay here with him. Selwyn lets me sit on council so that I can be of use. He told me to take a lover too, but… I don’t want some brothel worker like him. That’s not me.”

Guilt consumed Jaime. He had not known the truth behind Genna’s willingness to go through with another miserable marriage. Hearing the truth of it made him want to trade in his cloak for Genna’s freedom. Selwyn was a good man, but Genna deserved love. 

Barristan seemed perplexed by it all. “Jaime is a man grown, Genna. It was his decision to stay in the Kingsguard. Your brother can’t do a thing about it if you back out of the marriage.”

Genna snorted at the words. “You don’t know my brother if you think that. If I refuse and Jaime stays in the Kingsguard, you don’t want to know what Tywin would do to obtain power and further House Lannister’s position. It is safest for everyone if I wed Selwyn. Perhaps if the gods are kind, they’ll grant me some happiness in the heavens or another life. I know not what they do with us when we die.”

Barristan rubbed at his face and groaned. “I’d not wed for duty.”

“You were betrothed for a political match once. You said so yourself.” Genna scoffed at Barristan and swatted his armor. Her House ring clanged lightly on his breastplate and filled the night air. 

“That was different.” Barristan muttered the words, but Jaime could tell by the tone it was another unpleasant memory.

Genna shuffled closer to Barristan and dried her eyes. “Why didn’t you marry the woman? Did you not love her, and you refused on principle?”

Barristan sighed forcefully and shook his head. “Quite the opposite. I loved her.”

“What!? And _you_ broke it off? Truly, I’ll never understand you.” Genna was aghast and Jaime shared in the sentiment. If what Barristan said was true, he shouldn’t have joined the Kingsguard. He should be at Harvest Hall surrounded by children, and possibly holding his first grandbabe.

Barristan shifted awkwardly on the bench and dropped his head. “She did not feel the same for me. We were supposed to marry a few moons after the War of the Ninepenny Kings. When… when I was to ride off to fight, I… she made it clear that she did not love me. She was in love with my cousin. When I was offered the Kingsguard position, I thought it would be an honorable way to end the betrothal so that my cousin could wed her. They could inherit Harvest Hall, and I would be out of their way.”

Suddenly, Jaime did not want to be there. He was intruding on a private moment, and he knew that Barristan despised discussing past hurts. 

_All he has ever known is unrequited love. What if that becomes me? I gave up my inheritance for the Kingsguard too. I gave it up for love as he did. Am I going to be him someday… always watching from afar as someone I love is with another?_

Jaime felt despair creeping in. He heard Genna gasp beside Barristan. Glancing over, Jaime watched as his aunt cupped Barristan’s face. “Barristan! Most men wouldn’t have done that.”

“It would be worse if I was the reason that two people in love couldn’t be happy together.” 

Genna sighed and rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs. “But you gave up your birthright _and_ your own chance at love for them. You punished yourself with chastity to make them happy.”

“My life is to serve. I’m not made for all that.”

Genna scoffed. “Everyone is made for love.”

“Offering it perhaps. Not everyone has it returned. You deserve love though.”

Genna rested her head on Barristan’s shoulder and spoke wistfully. “Have you ever been in love after her?”

Jaime knew the answer. Ashara. 

“Yes.” He sounded sad, and the horrifying images from the siege rushed to the forefront of Jaime’s mind. 

“How many times?” With her head still on Barristan’s shoulder, Genna glanced up at him.

He sounded nervous when he spoke, and the answer surprised Jaime. “Twice after the broken betrothal. Both unrequited of course. A horrible emotion.”

_Who is the third?_

Genna hummed. “It’s a wretched emotion indeed. I hate it. I used to think it was easy to avoid. I only loved my children, and I foolishly thought that I could prevent myself from feeling romantic love. It seemed easy enough to avoid for most of my life. I wish that I could tear the emotion out of me.”

The reply was more startling than Barristan’s. Barristan seemed surprised as well. “I thought you didn’t love Emmon?”

“I’m not speaking of Emmon. Someone else.” Genna sighed heavily as she spoke. 

_She has said nothing to me of being in love with anyone! Why don’t I know this? Gods I’ve been a shit nephew. She asks after me all the time, and I never ask how she is._

“If you’re in love with someone, you certainly should not marry King Selwyn. He’s a wonderful king, but… a troubled man. You said that he wants you to be happy. He would understand.”

With a heavy sigh, Genna shook her head. “It matters not. The man is hardly available. He’s wed to his sword.” 

_What? Wait… Does she love someone in the Night’s Watch or Kingsguard? The Blackfish perhaps? I can’t handle anything about this night._

Jaime stared up at the sky in disbelief. Glancing back at Genna, Jaime’s jaw went slack at what he saw. Genna was sitting upright instead of slouching against Barristan. Her hands were cupping his cheeks again, but not so much in a consoling fashion as they were earlier. They seemed longing. Her eyes were an unspoken confession of love and Jaime cringed.

_Oh gods. She doesn’t love the Blackfish. She loves Barristan. Oh, Genna. So awkward. Of course you love the most chaste knight in the kingdoms. Walk away while your pride is intact._

“I know the first love. The other two… were they married?”

Barristan looked frightened, and Jaime wondered if he should make his presence known; an effort to help his Lord Commander avoid the awkwardness. Barristan’s words were strangled when he spoke. “One married a prince. The other is marrying a king.”

Then Genna’s lips were on Barristan’s before Jaime could fully process it all. Jaime felt frozen in place. If he tried to leave, they would see him and that was one conversation he _did not_ want to have. At the same time, he did not wish to learn how far they might take things.

Mercifully, Barristan pushed Genna back gently by the shoulders. “Genna… I… we can’t. You’re marrying the king.”

Knowing his aunt as he did, Jaime expected her to rage and fight for what she wanted. She was never one to give in or accept defeat. A tense silence followed, but then Genna fled. Jaime winced at the realization that his was not the only heart broken that night. 

Two people in love would be kept apart because of an obligation to Tywin. Despite that victory, Tywin didn’t get his son back. Genna had the right of it. After losing Jaime to the Kingsguard _again_ , he would not forfeit the crown too. In truth, Jaime feared that if Genna didn’t wed Selwyn, Cersei and Tywin would seize the opportunity. Jon would likely turn up dead, and Cersei became an available option to smooth over relations with the West.

Jaime wondered at it. _Barristan joined the Kingsguard as a selfless act to allow others to marry for love. Should I leave the Kingsguard as a selfless act to allow my aunt and Barristan to do the same? Perhaps my father would accept the trade. I’d marry anyone he wanted to allow Genna this bit of happiness._

When Barristan left the bench looking as dejected as Jaime had ever seen the man, Jaime made his way back towards the Keep. He needed to speak to someone who could offer an objective opinion. Aside from Barristan, Jaime felt as though he only had two other friends left in the world; Tyrion and Arthur. The former was just a boy, and as such, Jaime sought out his sworn brother. Arthur was a good man and could keep a secret. 

Jaime would only disclose the necessary bits of information to receive an opinion. Of course, he could not share his knowledge of Cersei’s scheming. As much as Jaime’s heart bled over her betrayal, he could never see harm befall her. Jaime knew that she would be killed for treason if he told anyone of her supposed plot with Viserys. 

Walking into the White Sword Tower, Jaime climbed the two flights of stairs to Arthur’s room. The hall was dimly lit given the hour, and Jaime’s feet shuffled slowly towards the room as he contemplated the best way to approach the topic. Raising his hand to knock, Jaime took pause when he heard loud moans from inside. 

“Arthur…” Lyanna’s voice drifted under the door. The steady rocking of a bed frame joined her pleasured cries. Jaime backed away slowly and tried not to make a sound. 

_This has to be the single most fucked up night of my life._

Retreating to his room, Jaime walked by Barristan’s sleeping cell. The door was closed, and Jaime could hear Barristan moving around inside. For at least an hour, Jaime sat on the edge of his bed uncertain what to do. 

When his eyes began to grow heavy from fatigue, Jaime committed to speaking with Selwyn on the morrow. He would offer to wed Brienne when she came of age to prevent him and Genna from feeling pressured to marry.

The next day, Jaime rose early to speak with Selwyn. When he donned fresh clothing, washed his face, and chewed on some mint to cleanse his stale morning breath, Jaime noted a piece of parchment slid under his door. Opening the paper, Jaime’s heart began to pound at what he saw. The handwriting was undeniably Cersei’s and his heart leapt into his throat. 

_‘Help me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once to the godswood.’_

Jaime could never deny Cersei anything, even in her betrayal. Moving quickly through the White Sword Tower and towards the godswood, Jaime’s mind raced. Everything around him faded away as his mind replayed the words just read.

When at last Jaime came upon Cersei, she was standing near the ancient weirwood with Jasper in her arms. She spun around at his approach, and Jaime could see that she had been crying. Fear coursed through Jaime over the possibility that she could be hurt or threatened. 

Wordlessly, Cersei ran to Jaime and he wrapped his arms around her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Viserys. Jaime, I _had_ to lie to him. I was worried he might do something on this visit. He hates you for killing his father, so I pretended that you were loyal to him, and the tales he heard were lies. He knew that father tried to betroth me to him once, and he thinks we’ll wed when Jon dies.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “You have to tell someone. He could harm you or Jasper. He speaks of treason, Cersei.”

“Jaime… he _saw_ us last night. He _knows_. He said that he’ll tell Jon and everyone else if you try to harm him or speak of his treasonous words. Jasper and I will be cast out or _worse_ if Jon knows of our love! I have a plan to get rid of Viserys; to protect us. Jon has been all over the boy at the Eyrie, and I just need time. For now, I’ve been indulging Viserys’ madness until I can act. Wait for me, Jaime. Please. I am yours and yours alone. Whatever you want to do… just wait for me. Jon is old and will die soon enough. When Jon is gone, I’ll ensure Viserys is gone. We can flee together.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack. He wasn’t certain if he could believe Cersei, but the pain in her eyes seemed real. It reminded Jaime of when they lost their mother. The fear in how Cersei clung tightly to Jasper felt genuine. Jaime’s heart was weak, and he loved her desperately. “Alright. I’ll wait for you. I’ll say nothing of Viserys for now. Just… be careful. If you need help, tell me.”

A wave of guilt hit Jaime as he held Cersei close. _I’m sorry Aunt Genna. I’m not so selfless as you and Barristan._

The rest of the day was difficult to endure. Jaime watched as a despondent Selwyn and a devastated Genna spoke their vows. Try as he might, Jaime couldn’t help but glance at Barristan. The agony in his eyes was poorly concealed and reminded Jaime of Barristan’s pain on Ashara’s wedding night. Jaime was at war with himself, but every time he felt himself spiraling into a familiar self-loathing, he glanced at Cersei. Her small smile pulled Jaime back from the abyss, and made his heart melt. 

_It will be alright. Selwyn will allow Genna to take a lover. Perhaps I can subtly encourage her and Barristan._

At the wedding feast, Jaime stood guard behind Brienne. True to expectation, she looked poor off in her dress. Jaime felt a pang of sympathy as she sat awkwardly at the table. Viserys and Garlan were supposed to play at suitors, but both boys, ages eight and nine, looked to her with distaste. Crouching down, Jaime placed a hand on the table and met Brienne’s big, blue eyes. 

“They’re miserable shits. Forget what your father asked of you. Tyrion would love to spend time with you instead.” At the words, Brienne’s eyes lit up. Just as Brienne was alone, so was Tyrion. Jaime’s young brother sat solemnly at House Lannister’s table. Guiding Brienne over, Jaime watched as Tyrion and Brienne embraced. The sight warmed Jaime’s heart, but then a hand grabbed at his arm. Jaime turned to see Cersei staring back at him in a stunning green gown. 

She smiled in amusement at the younger pair seated together. “How kind. You’ve brought the creatures together.” Before Jaime could reprimand Cersei, she dragged him forward. “Dance with me, brother.”

Cersei had never allowed Jaime to dance with her in public, and his heart soared. Despite his excitement, Jaime glanced back at Brienne. “I’m meant to guard the princess.”

“You can see her well-enough from the dance floor, can’t you? It’s a feast, Jaime. Dance with me.” The feel of Cersei’s hand on Jaime’s was enough to give in to any request she had. They spun around the dance floor with the other couples, and Jaime had never felt so happy. Soon, Genna ruined the fun and asked for a turn. As they began to dance, his aunt muttered in a reprimanding tone. 

“Lets not start _that_ now.” Genna’s brow raised knowingly, and Jaime felt his face flush. “I thought you were to be guarding Brienne.”

“I am.” Jaime replied and glanced around the hall. Strangely, Tyrion was sitting alone once more. Looking in each direction, Jaime saw Brienne with Garlan and Viserys. His shoulders sagged in relief, and he smiled at the sight. 

_I hope Viserys will at least be kinder now that Cersei has calmed him._

Jaime glanced around the hall again and saw Barristan standing against the wall. His eyes followed Selwyn as the king moved from table to table, drinking and laughing. Of course, the other Kingsguard followed Selwyn closely, but Barristan stood vigilant as ever.

“You should dance with Ser Barristan.” The suggestion sounded as nonchalant as Jaime hoped it would. Genna swallowed thickly and glanced away. 

“He’s on guard as you’re meant to be. You should get back to Brienne. I don’t trust those boys.”

Jaime checked on her once more, but she seemed well-enough. As the dance ended, Jaime grabbed his aunt’s hand and dragged her to Barristan. 

“Ser Barristan, my aunt is wearing me out and his Grace looks a bit occupied. Can you take a turn? I have to get back to the princess.”

Barristan looked uneasy at the request, but Genna stepped forward and titled up her chin. “Well Lord Commander? Shall we?”

Despite the hesitation on both of their parts, they moved towards the dance floor as the next song began. When Jaime began to walk back towards Brienne, he saw the boys snickering as she fled the hall quickly. _Oh no._

Moving back to House Lannister’s table, Jaime leaned down. “Tyrion, can you spend time with me and the princess tomorrow? Lunch perhaps?”

Jaime lamented that he hadn’t been able to spend much time with Tyrion yet. Further vexing, his brother had been intentionally separated from Brienne by Tywin for reasons unbeknownst to Jaime. For his part, Selwyn had asked Brienne to entertain her suitors, but Jaime knew that Tyrion was the one she wished to play with. 

Tyrion nodded eagerly at the offer for lunch on the morrow. He began to ask his usual array of questions, but Jaime only placed a hand on Tyrion’s shoulder and smiled. “I’m sorry, but the princess just ran out of here looking rather upset, and I need to guard her. Tomorrow we’ll speak. I’ve missed you!”

The words seemed to appease Tyrion, and Jaime felt better about his hasty departure. Jaime prayed that Brienne had fled to her room, because he was in no mood to search the entirety of the Keep that night. When he arrived at Brienne’s room, Jaime could hear the young girl crying inside. Part of Jaime considered simply standing guard outside as was expected of him, but another part felt badly and wished to know what happened. In many ways, Brienne reminded Jaime of Tyrion. She was mocked for her appearance; something she couldn’t control. 

Jaime knocked and pushed open the door slowly. “Princess?”

At first, he didn’t see her, but then Jaime saw the mound of pillows moving on the bed. Brienne had buried herself under the decorative pillows and silks in some desperate bid to hide herself from the world.

Moving into the room, Jaime shut the door. He wasn’t well-suited to handle such situations, nor did he know what to say to a girl of five. Instead, Jaime aimed for jest. “Gods… look at all these pillows. How absurd. They’re moving of their own volition.”

Taking two of the ten pillows, Jaime began playfully hitting the moving lump underneath. Small giggles replaced sobs, and Brienne popped up from underneath. “Ser Jaime! I’m not a pillow.”

“Oh! My apologies. I thought some magical pillows or perhaps a cat had taken over the bed.”

Brienne smiled awkwardly; her teary eyes glistening in the firelight. Raising a brow, Jaime spoke questioningly. “You left the feast.”

Brienne’s face fell at the comment. “No one wanted me there.”

“What? Who told you such rubbish? It’s your father’s wedding night.” Jaime threw one of the pillows at Brienne, but she caught it. For such a young girl, she had incredible reflexes. “Just… people. The girls were right though. I shouldn’t have worn the dress.” Brienne slumped back down from her kneeling position on the bed. 

_Seven hells. What did that little shit say?_

“I like the dress and so does your father. He said as much earlier.”

Hope welled within Brienne’s eyes. “He did?”

_Truly? Did he not say something to her? Gods. This man._

“Of course. He always says nice things about you.” Jaime sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed another pillow. He flipped it around in his hands before pretending to throw it at Brienne, but instead, he was met with a pillow to the face.

Jaime chuckled as the pillow fell onto his lap. “You assaulted a Kingsguard.”

Brienne laughed in reply. “You were going to throw yours first. I’m faster than you. So is Ser Arthur.”

Jaime snorted at the words; his brows rising in feigned offense. “You wound me, princess. Very well… you win this round. Will you come back to the feast?”

“No.”

Jaime grumbled in dismay. Her staying put meant that he had to as well. 

Brienne looked at him curiously. She played with the corner of a pillow absently. “Why don’t you go back?”

“I’m to guard you.”

Understanding seemed to wash over Brienne’s face. Her smile dropped and she nodded. “I’ll go back then so you can have fun.”

For not the first time that day, guilt consumed Jaime. _Even a five-year-old is more selfless than me._

With a heavy sigh, Jaime furrowed his brows. “No… I don’t care for Viserys and Garlan. I’d rather stay here.”

Brienne’s face lifted once more. “Will you read to me or do you have to stand outside?”

 _Gods. I despise reading._

“I can read to you. One book, and then I need to stand guard outside. I can’t risk any stray animals or magic pillows sneaking into the room and attempting to take over your bed.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the jape. “Those aren’t real, Ser Jaime. Did you not learn that yet?”

Jaime snorted and nodded emphatically. “Well I got nervous when I came in here before. I thought all my lessons were wrong. It’s very confusing for me. I nearly stabbed the moving pillows with my sword.”

Again, Brienne missed the jape and her eyes went wide with concern. _Such a serious child._ “Is that why they only just gave you a real sword?” 

“A what?” Jaime laughed lightly? “Real sword?”

“My father says you’re just a babe, and he’s surprised they gave you a real sword. Ser Arthur said it was his fault.” 

_Wretched men having a laugh at my expense._

Jaime bit back a laugh. “I am eight-and-ten! Hardly a babe. I got the real sword just this year.”

Ignoring him, Brienne moved from the bed and ran to her bookshelf. Jaime had never seen so many books stacked on one shelf, and surprisingly, Brienne knew the exact book that she wanted. Many of the books Jaime recognized from his own childhood. Brienne scampered back to the bed and handed the book to him.

“I want this one.”

Jaime chuckled as he read the title. “Very well. Now don’t interrupt. I get very into my storytelling.” _And I want to be done with this quickly._

Jaime opened the book and began reading, but he was quickly interrupted. “You have to do the voices!”

Turning his head slowly towards Brienne, Jaime noted the disappointment on her face. “What voices?”

“The characters. Are you certain you know how to read? Perhaps I can find someone else.”

Jaime scoffed in offense. “Fine. I’ll give you voices.”

Clearing his throat dramatically, Jaime began again. He raised his voice into a high, shrill tone for the maiden’s lines, and a low, gallant tone for the knight’s part. Brienne thought it all wildly amusing, but then he skipped a page and she scolded him.

“You missed a part! Now you have to go back.”

Jaime huffed in disbelief. As he began again, Brienne reached for his sword. “Can I see? Ser Arthur lets me see Dawn.”

“He lets you hold Dawn!” _Well that is crap! I never get to hold Dawn._

Forever unable to jape, Brienne spoke in a deadly serious tone. “Perhaps he just likes me more than you.”

Jaime guffawed and nodded emphatically. “Truer words have never been spoken. I’ll not let you play with my sword though. Your father would have my head if you murder these magic pillows. Now sit still and listen. You’re ruining the flow.”

As Jaime read the tale, Brienne had him act out the scenes. He waved his sword high to kill the dragon threatening the maiden in the tower, but as he neared the grand finish, the door burst open. Septa Roelle came charging in and screaming. 

“By the Seven! What is the racket about!?”

Brienne had been jumping on the bed and shouting encouragement as Jaime stabbed the imaginary dragon to rescue the maiden. Both stilled as she walked in, and Jaime observed Roelle’s face set into a deep scowl. Her dress was an awful, striped gown that reminded Jaime of the shadowcats that he read about in books as a boy at Casterly Rock. He loved hiding under the covers and straining to read about dragons, shadowcats, krakens, and the Others. 

Turning to Brienne in feigned horror, Jaime spoke loudly. “Look out princess! It’s a dangerous shadowcat! I’ll get her!” 

Swinging towards the Septa just enough to elicit a squeal from Roelle, Jaime bit back a laugh as the woman retreated into the hallway. “Ser Jaime! Enough! I’m telling his Grace.”

_Good riddance. Miserable cunt._

Turning back to face Brienne, Jaime shrugged and finished his tale. It wasn’t long after that Selwyn was dragged into the room by Roelle. He looked properly miffed to have been removed from the feast. 

“What is the problem? I hear you tried to kill the Septa with your sword.” Selwyn seemed unimpressed at the accusation, but he sighed heavily and indulged the woman at his back. Arthur and Brynden moved into the room to appraise the scene for themselves. 

“Apologies, your Grace. Now that I have a _real_ sword, and not just a wooden sword befitting a babe of my age, I forgot myself. We were killing dragons in here, and I mistook Septa Roelle for a shadowcat. Blame her seamstress. Not me.”

The king struggled to cover his laughter, but Arthur guffawed loudly at Selwyn’s back. “Well played, little brother! Do you need any help? She looks like a vicious one.”

Roelle huffed in annoyance and glared at Selwyn. “Do you see what I mean, your Grace!? Entirely disrespectful!”

“Please don’t be mad at Ser Jaime, father! He was reading to me and doing the voices.”

At Brienne’s desperate words, Selwyn softened. He smiled and straightened her skirts; his large hands cupping her cheeks lovingly. “Well I wish you were at the feast with me, but this seems a far more enjoyable adventure. You’re quite the pretty maiden to rescue.”

Septa Roelle’s eyes went wide. “Your Grace! The boy… he…”

“Ser Jaime. His name is Ser Jaime, and he is guarding my daughter _and_ doing your job. Do you truly believe my daughter’s happiness at Ser Jaime’s attention was worth pulling me from my own wedding feast to complain about?

The septa stammered and apologized. A feeling of victory spread through Jaime and he caught Arthur’s eye. A smug smile stretched across the older knight’s face as he watched the floundering septa. The only person who despised the woman more than Jaime was Arthur. 

Turning back to Brienne, Selwyn patted her head. “No standing on the bed, sweetling. Have fun. I have to get back to the feast now, but I’ll come see you to break out fast on the morrow.”

As Selwyn left the room, Arthur, Brynden, and Septa Roelle followed. With a lingering glare at Jaime, Roelle slipped through the doorway. Jaime stuck out his tongue in distaste which drew a laugh from Brienne. Raising his sword and the book, Jaime sighed. “Where were we?”


	19. Jaime VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the wedding night/feast and into the next day.

Jaime laughed loudly and slumped against the wall of the spiral staircase. He and Arthur were dragging their mattresses up the flight of stairs towards Barristan’s room. Arthur insisted that he could balance the mattress on his head and carry it, but he tripped halfway between levels and got stuck under the weight of the bedding. 

Since Barristan had to move into the Lord Commander’s quarters after Arys joined the Kingsguard, the original four brothers had spent many nights in the large suite at the top floor of the White Sword Tower. When Jon, Jaime, Arthur, and Barristan had the night off from guard duty, they often spent the evening playing games and laughing until an absurd hour of the night.

That night when the wedding feast ended, Arys had overnight duty, and he would be relieved by Lyn and Brynden in the morning. The standard rotation had worked out in the favor of the original four Kingsguard, and they had ample time to rest the next day if they so wished. 

Jaime thought Barristan might want some company. Barristan had looked so despondent at the wedding, and Jaime considered that it was the third time a woman Barristan loved wed another man. At least that night, Genna would not be bedding Selwyn, but Jaime imagined it still hurt Barristan to watch. Worse so was Genna’s confession of love the night prior.

_Could I do that? Could I stand there and do nothing as Cersei wed a man who she didn’t wish to? Could I do that three times?_

After leaving Brienne’s room, Jaime had joined Jon and Arthur at the feast, and he suggested they invite themselves into Barristan’s room. Both men seemed more than eager to unwind in Lord Commander’s apartment, and Jon offered to procure some wine.

Jon had stopped drinking entirely, but Arthur, Jaime, and Barristan would have a cup or two together. None of them were heavy drinkers which made it easy for Jon to be around them. Now as they were at a standstill halfway up the stairwell, Arthur groaned from under the mattress in feigned distress. 

“Little brother. Help. I’m dying.” 

“You’re dying?” Jaime tried to collect his breath as he glanced around his own mattress; a wide smile on his face.

The mattress shifted above Arthur’s body as the Dornish knight tried to crawl the remaining steps on all fours. “Yes. I think this is it for me. This is as far as I go. Tell Barristan to write about how brave I was when the Stranger came for me.” 

“Well if you’re dying, do you suppose you could move to the side so that I can get by first?” Jaime began to push his mattress on top of Arthur’s; his body shaking with laughter as Arthur shouted, muffled obscenities from below two mattresses. 

Shoving his mattress forward, Jaime climbed over Arthur by stepping onto the mattress covering his back. “Arthur?”

A barely audible ‘what?’ called out as Jaime climbed over Arthur. 

“If you’re truly dying, can I have _Dawn_?”

Arthur guffawed from underneath the mattress and tried to stand as Jaime passed over him. “Never ask a Dorishman for his sword, little brother. You might not appreciate the offering.”

_Oh gods._

With all the commotion in the hallway, Barristan’s door swung open. Jaime glanced up and saw Barristan’s eyes go wide. He was in only his tunic and breeches with a confused expression on his face. “Truly? Tonight?”

Arthur grunted and pushed himself into a half standing position with the mattress still on his back. “Barristan. Help me! Jaime abandoned me to die.”

Jaime stood upright as he reached the landing. He dragged his mattress towards Barristan and into the room. With a heavy sigh, Barristan moved towards the stairwell and helped Arthur the rest of the way. 

“I don’t recall agreeing to this.” Barristan dragged the mattress into the room as Arthur pushed from the opposite end. From down the stairwell, Jon screamed up to them. “Do you have the parchment and quill!?”

Ignoring Jon, Arthur smirked and patted Barristan’s back. “Apologies. Did you have plans to bed yourself this evening? Should we have stripped you down when we left the wedding feast?”

Jaime cringed at playful reference to beddings. He knew that Arthur was only teasing and had no idea about Barristan’s feelings for Genna, but the timing was awful. Dragging his mattress towards the back of the room where Barristan’s bed was, Jaime eyed the space.

Like every sleeping cell in the White Sword Tower, the room was sparsely decorated, and everything was white; white linens, white curtains, and white pillows. Unlike the White Bull who added personal items and decor around the spacious apartment, Barristan had not. Were it not for Barristan’s trunk of meager belongings at the foot of his bed, the room would look entirely unoccupied. 

Unlike the lower levels, the Lord Commander’s room was quite large and could easily fit all seven brothers if they so pleased. In the center and back of the room was the small bed. To the right was a sitting area and small fireplace that was rarely used. To the left was a table with several chairs. 

Jaime took his usual seat at the table and caught his breath. His brothers slowly entered the room and dragged their mattresses to the back. Jon huffed and threw out his arms. “I asked after the parchment and quill. Do you all mean to kill me? Now I have to go down to the first level!”

Arthur snorted and took a seat beside Jaime. “It’s good for you, Jon. Don’t forget our wine.”

After two more trips into the room with wine and supplies for the game, Jon groaned in despair. “No! I’m not playing next to Barristan again.”

After being accepted by his sworn brothers, Jaime came to learn many of their inside japes. Arthur and Barristan were merciless where it concerned Jon. He was truly a glutton for punishment and played right into their torture. 

The game they played most often had been one that Ser Oswell taught the brothers. They would strap their swords belts to their heads and take turns as the ‘guesser’. The brother closest to the guesser would place a slip of parchment onto the guesser’s forehead which was held in place by the belt. On the paper was a name or object that the wearer had to guess correctly by asking questions. That was one of Barristan’s favorite ways to torture Jon. Jon was truly awful at the game, but Barristan also gave him the most absurd people or objects. 

“Relax, Jon. It’s not my fault that you’re shit at the game.” Barristan scoffed, but Jaime could already see the mischief in the Lord Commander’s eyes.

When not at court or on duty, Jaime caught a glimpse into a different side of Barristan. The Lord Commander was surprisingly relaxed and mischievous with the brothers he trusted most.

Jon’s eyes went wide, and he gawked at Barristan. “Shit at it!? The last time you drew a cock on my forehead.” 

Barristan feigned distaste and shook his head. “That was morningstar, Jon. So indecent.”

_No. It was definitely a cock, and it took Jon near an hour to figure out that he was in fact a cock._

Jaime had laughed himself to sleep that night. There was something about the way Jon asked his questions that made it impossible not to laugh at him. Barristan, Arthur, or Jaime would ask, ‘Is it a sword?’ or ‘Is the person the king?’. Jon however took ownership of the item when he asked after it. ‘Am I a cock?’ or ‘Am I a chamber pot?’ or ‘Am I a fool?’

Jaime was certain that is why Barristan gave Jon such absurd objects or people; simply to hear the man ask curiously if he was those things.

Jon whined and glanced at Arthur. “Come on, switch places with me. Let me sit next to Jaime. You always play beside him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you knight him? Go get your own little brother.” Arthur strapped his sword belt to his head. Doing the same, Jaime watched as Barristan bit back a laugh and began writing on the parchment for the first turn. When Jon had the sword belt strapped to his head, he crossed his arms and grumbled like a petulant child. 

Barristan placed the parchment between the belt and Jon’s forehead; a small smirk at his lips. “I’m going easy on you to start.”

“Oh gods.” Arthur snorted at Jaime’s side. When Jaime read the parchment, he immediately reached for his cup of wine to hide the smile. 

_‘Jonothor Darry’_

Jon glanced uneasily at Barristan, Jaime, and Arthur. “Am I a person?”

“Yes.” Barristan’s tone was serious in reply. He leaned onto his right elbow and raised a brow as Jon considered his next question.

“Am I a man?”

Barristan hummed in consideration. “Yes, you have a morningstar.” 

“Glad you admit it was a cock!” Jon huffed and scratched at his chin. “Am I powerful?”

“Not in the slightest.” Barristan’s deadpan tone made Jaime snort. He quickly covered his mouth, but Jon narrowed his eyes in irritation. 

“I swear by the gods, Barristan... If you made me Butterbumps again, I’ll suffocate you in your sleep.”

At the mention of House Tyrell’s court fool that had accompanied Olenna from Highgarden, Arthur and Jaime broke into a fit of laughter. The overweight jester’s greatest talent, farting at will, had been the most shocking thing that Jaime had ever encountered at court, but Olenna found the fool incredibly entertaining.

Barristan’s brows furrowed in contrived confusion. “I’m sorry, but are you asking me if you’re Butterbumps?”

Jon grumbled and huffed. “Am I fool?”

Barristan’s eyes narrowed and he bit his lip in contemplation. “Well I’m inclined to say ‘yes’, but I fear that might be misleading.”

“Oh, come on! What the fuck does that mean? Arthur, am I a fool?”

Arthur struggled to keep a straight face as he met Jon’s inquiring eyes. “When you put it like that…”

Jon huffed and glanced at Jaime. “Give it to me straight, Jaime! Am I a fool?”

“You are not a _court_ fool.” Jaime drew his lower lip into his mouth and watched as Jon muttered to himself. “So, I’m a man who is not powerful and while I’m not a fool at _court_ , I’m kind of a dolt…”

Jaime tried to swallow his laughter. He could never understand how Barristan kept such a straight face through it all, but his contrived sincerity only seemed to encourage Jon and prevent him from quitting each time.

“Do I live at the Red Keep?” Jon turned his attention back to Barristan who nodded in affirmation. 

Jon tapped the table with his fingers and considered the clues. “Am I of noble birth?” Once more, Barristan nodded in affirmation. 

“Am I a knight?”

Barristan sighed dramatically and nodded as though it pained him. “Technically.”

Jon’s brows furrowed at the words. He spoke slowly as though daring Barristan to answer affirmatively. “Am I a Kingsguard?”

Nodding emphatically, Barristan smirked. It took a moment, but Jon quickly scowled. “Oh come on! Am I, me?”

Barristan didn’t need to supply verbal confirmation given his wide smile and laughing eyes. With a hard kick to Barristan’s chair, Jon sent the Lord Commander flying backwards. Despite the drop, Barristan laughed from the floor as Jon tore the parchment off his head.

“You’re a real shit, Barristan. I don’t know why I play these games with you.”

Barristan righted himself and the chair; his voice thick with amusement as he sat back down. “I’m sorry, but do you find the person offensive in some way? It seems you only have yourself to blame.”

“Consider your answers! The lot of you.” Jon aimed for reprimand, but Jaime could see the small smirk at his lips. Despite being targeted by Barristan and Arthur, Jon was good-natured about it and he knew the brothers meant no harm. To Jaime’s side, Arthur scribbled on the parchment and placed the paper on Jaime’s forehead.

Once everyone saw the clue, Jaime gauged their reactions. They were chuckling which _likely_ meant a person, but had Barristan placed the answer, it could have been anything.

“Is it a person?”

Arthur nodded in reply and took a sip of his wine.

“Is it a man?”

Shaking his head in refute, Arthur leaned back in his chair.

Jaime considered what Arthur was aiming for. It would have to be a woman they all knew for them to chuckle like that. “Is it a woman grown?”

“Yes.” Arthur crossed his arms; his head tilting slightly at Jaime.

“Is the woman beautiful?” The question was multilayered. Jaime knew that if the answer was ‘yes’, it was someone that Arthur considered a good person _and_ at a minimum, average looking.

Arthur was someone who considered a woman ugly if her attitude was shit. It mattered little how pleasing she was on the eye. He was a man who appreciated a woman’s beauty, but a woman’s character was much more important to him. He had conveyed as much about Lyanna some moons ago.

Yes, she was a pretty woman and Arthur noticed that first, but it wasn’t until Arthur got to know Lyanna that he fell head over heels in love with her. Arthur and Lyanna spent hours laughing and talking together about all manner of subjects, but the thing he mentioned the most was how honorable, protective, and kind Lyanna was.

Jaime had been surprised to learn that Lyanna was the fabled mystery knight at the Harrenhal tourney. She had been acting in defense of Howland Reed when the squires bullied him, and she felt compelled to defend his honor.

At the question, Arthur snorted, but he attempted to give away nothing. “Seems a bit subjective.”

“On a scale of prettiness ranging from Jon to me, is the woman closer to me?” Jaime’s voice was teasing as his eyes darted to Jon. Jon began to protest, but Arthur spoke over his sworn brother; his voice dripping with contrived sincerity.

“Now who could be prettier than Jaime Lannister? Though I will say that even Jon blows this one out of the water.”

_Oh. I think I know._

“Is the person a complete, miserable cunt?”

Arthur laughed and nodded emphatically, but more so, the other brothers seemed to agree.

“It’s Septa Roelle!”

Arthur clapped and nodded his head. “Yes! I suppose that was too easy.”

They played for several more rounds and laughed loudly as the questions and answers grew more ridiculous. The game ended after Jon agonized for nearly an hour over Barristan’s supplied answer, ‘eunuch’. The Lord Commander’s cryptic replies did little to temper Jon’s frustration with the game.

Jaime and Arthur had been laughing to the point of tears. Somehow, Barristan had kept a straight face through it all, and played at agitation for Jon not accepting his answers for what they were.

_‘What do you mean you don’t know!? I either have a cock or I don’t!’_

Barristan feigned exasperation and shook his head. _‘I suppose that’s the root of it. Or is it the stem? I suppose sometimes it Varys.’_

Arthur had to walk away to catch his breath as Jon dropped his head onto the table in frustration and Barristan maintained his deadpan expression. When Jon finally had enough of the game and snatched the paper off his head, he groaned at the reveal.

“A fucking eunuch, Selmy!? ‘ _It Varys’_? You’re such a cock!” Jon shoved Barristan in the arm, but his indignation only worsened when Barristan laughed harder. Soon Jon was trying to suffocate Barristan in a headlock and Arthur had to intervene. Jaime watched as three men long grown wrestled like boys of ten might.

When at last they settled down for the night and the candles were out, Arthur snickered and needled Jon a while longer. “Jon…”

“What?” Jon’s voice was muffled as he lay on his stomach; his face buried in his pillow.

“Are you still upset? I know what might make you feel better…” Jaime could hear the laughter in Arthur’s voice as he spoke.

Jon groaned to Jaime’s left. “No. I’d rather you not.”

The song started low, but Arthur grew louder as he sang off pitch. Being from the Riverlands, Jon knew and once enjoyed the songs of Tom of Sevenstreams. When Jonothor was still reliant on the drink, he often sang _Let me Drink Your Beauty_ at the tavern to try and woo the ladies. Now, Jon hated the song. 

It wasn’t until he heard another man singing it drunkenly and trying to curry favor with a lady that Jon realized how absurd he must have looked doing the same. Of course, that didn’t stop Arthur and Barristan from humming the song whenever Jon’s eyes lingered a moment too long on a lady at court.

What began as Arthur singing turned into a full rendition from Jaime, Arthur, and Barristan. Jon cursed them all and laughed loudly at their horrid singing. “You’re truly the worst people and I hate you all.”

When the song ended and the room quieted once more, Arthur whispered again. “Jon…”

“Go away…” The exhaustion in Jon’s voice was apparent and Jaime bit back a laugh as he stared at the ceiling.

“We love you, brother.” Arthur chuckled as he spoke. There was a moment’s pause before Jon grumbled his reply.

“Fuck off.”

The reply only encouraged Arthur to continue pestering him. “Jon…”

“What!?”

Even in the darkness, Jaime could tell that Arthur was smiling widely. “Do you love us back?”

Jon sighed heavily and muttered in reply. “… yes. Now shut up and let me sleep.”

* * *

A light knock on Barristan’s door roused Jaime from sleep. His eyes fluttered open and the fog slowly cleared as he glanced around the room. Arthur and Jon were snoring loudly not far from Jaime, and the Barristan’s bed shifted as he grumbled and moved towards the door. Barristan swayed slightly from fatigue and reached out for the handle.

Standing in only his breeches, Barristan pulled back the door a crack to see who it was. The words were whispered, but Jaime could just make out the conversation. Barristan’s voice had a worried edge as he questioned whoever stood on the other side.

“Is something wrong?”

A familiar voice spoke in hushed tones from the other side. Genna. “Can I come in?”

Barristan glanced back to appraise his sleeping brothers. His facial expression was uneasy as he looked back towards Genna. “Uh… we can go to the study.”

“Do you have someone in there? Do you have a woman in there?”

Jaime bit back a laugh at the jealousy in his aunt’s voice. The question seemed absurd to Jaime given the man it was directed at.

“What? No.” Barristan’s tone remained at a whisper, but his agitation was clear.

“Then let me in there.”

They began to bicker in hushed tones, but when Genna shoved her head inside, her eyes went wide at the sight of three Kingsguard; two asleep and one very much awake. Jaime pushed up onto his elbows and waved, but Genna quickly retreated into the hallway.

“Apologies. I… perhaps we can walk later?”

Barristan stepped into the hallway with Genna and shut the door. Their words were muffled, but Jaime thought it odd that Genna was there at such an early hour. Glancing at the window, Jaime considered that most were likely asleep in the Keep. When Barristan returned, he walked across the room slowly. His hand ran through his blond hair and his eyes landed on Jaime. Something in his eyes looked cautious as though approaching a startled animal.

Barristan crouched before Jaime and whispered. “I think you should go speak with your aunt.”

“What’s wrong?” Panic coursed through Jaime at the thought of something being wrong with Genna. _What happened? Did someone speak cruelly? Did my father say something?_

“Um… your uncle. Tygett.”

Jaime’s face fell at the words. Gerion, Kevan, and Tywin had attended Genna’s wedding, but Tygett remained in the West. Little information had been supplied by Tywin, but Jaime wondered if Tygett was unwell. It would not be unlike Tywin to withhold information on a family member’s health if he deemed it a perceived weakness of their House.

Jaime threw on his tunic and moved into the hallway. When he saw Genna’s face, he knew. His body sank as Genna crashed into him and cried quietly. While Kevan and Tywin were difficult to endure, Gerion and Tygett were good men. Both loved Genna dearly and had been kind to her.

Genna mumbled against Jaime’s chest as her tears wet his tunic. “A raven brought word before sunrise. He died of pox. I didn’t even know he was ill. Tywin doesn’t even care.”

Jaime held Genna tightly and let her cry. “I’m sorry, Aunt Genna.”

Stepping back from the embrace, Genna wiped at her face. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I wasn’t certain where to go. Gerion left straight away to help Darlessa with Tyrek. He’s quite angry at Tywin’s cold response. I haven’t told Tyrion. Poor boy is still asleep. I went to your room first, but… the bed was missing…”

Genna huffed a small laugh and glanced back at the door. “Do the four of you do that a lot?”

Jaime shrugged and offered a sad smile. “When we don’t have shifts overnight or if we need a _distraction_ .” _Distraction from memories of Aerys. Distraction from all the senseless loss. Distraction from other painful events._

It had started as a way to cope with their shared traumas without discussing them. Over time as they healed emotionally, it became less about distraction and more about enjoying one another’s company. Last night however, Jaime hoped the brothers provided a distraction for Barristan’s unspoken pain.

Genna hummed in understanding and patted Jaime’s cheek. “Go back to your sworn brothers. I’ll be fine. Don’t forget… you promised Tyrion lunch today.”

* * *

Jaime sat in the gardens with Tyrion and Brienne. The pair were delighted to spend time together, and it was obvious that each felt isolated in their own way. In a way, Jaime felt an uninvited guest as the pair enjoyed one another’s company.

Jaime smiled at Tyrion as he regaled Brienne with another tale from the Rock. While he didn’t ordinarily eat meals with those he was meant to be guarding, Jaime had made an exception. Given Tywin’s refusal to allow Tyrion to stay with Genna at the Red Keep, Jaime didn’t get to see his little brother often and he missed him.

As Tyrion and Brienne laughed together, Jaime noted a group of young girls walk by. They looked to be around nine or ten in age, and the picture of courtly perfection. He recognized one of them as the little shit who mocked Brienne moons ago. _Allana._

Since his words with the girl, Allana didn’t approach Brienne, but that day, the girl was with three other children. As they passed, the girl whispered and laughed; her finger pointing less than subtly towards Tyrion and Brienne. Unfortunately, Brienne saw them and retreated in on herself.

At Brienne’s physical response, Tyrion turned around and followed her gaze. His face fell and he slowly turned towards Brienne. “I’d say ignore it, but I know that’s easier said than done. I know how it feels.”

The words broke Jaime’s heart. He hated seeing Tyrion mocked and he lamented not being closer to defend him from judgmental stares and cutting words.

Brienne glanced at Tyrion through her lashes. “Does it ever stop? I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Don’t do what on purpose?” Tyrion leaned forward and grabbed Brienne’s hand where it rested on the table.

“Be ugly and… bumbling. I think that was the word. My Septa didn’t tell me what it meant. She only said it wasn’t an unfair description.”

Without a word, Jaime pushed back his chair and stormed after the girls. He jogged to catch up and grabbed the brat by her shoulder.

Allana shrieked and turned to face Jaime. “Don’t touch me! I didn’t do anything.”

Jaime crouched before the girl and snarled at her. “I saw you walk by giggling like the nasty little shit that you are. That was the princess and the young lord of a Great House that you were snickering at. What did you say?”

The girl’s friends looked panicked and stared at Allana. For her part, Allana tilted up her chin and shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Glancing at one of the other girls, Jaime spoke sternly. “Tell me what your friend said, or I’ll have you all dragged before the king.”

The girl’s eyes went wide with fear. She glanced at her friends and stammered for a moment before confessing the secret. “She said ‘ugly creatures stick together’. I didn’t laugh, ser!” 

A snide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he turned his attention back to Allana. “I thought I warned you well-enough the last time. Apparently, you’re too thick-skulled to listen. You’ve given your opinion, now I’ll give mine. You might fancy yourself a pretty, little thing, but you’re quite ugly in truth. You’ll marry some worthless, minor lord and give him a babe or two, but he’ll take to the brothels and spend what little coin he has on someone more pleasing to him. It might not be your appearance that drives him there _initially,_ but your character will. No one wants a nasty, miserable cunt for a wife. Unfortunately for you, appearance fades over time, and all you’ll have left is your ugliness. Princess Brienne and Lord Tyrion by contrast have far more beauty than you’ll ever possess.”

The girl’s eyes welled with tears despite her face setting into a scowl. “You’re mean! I’ll tell my father!”

“And I’ll tell the princess’s father. Consider yourself lucky that I don’t tell _my_ father. Lord Tywin Lannister would see that head of yours on a spike for insulting a member of his House. Our king is much kinder, but I doubt his generosity will extend to you for a _second_ offense.”

Glancing at the girls’ friends, Jaime gave a warning. “If either of you are cruel to anyone else, I might very well introduce you to Lord Tywin. Now leave.”

The two girls ran in the opposite direction and abandoned Allana. Grabbing the girl by the arm, Jaime dragged her down the pathway towards the Keep. When Tyrion and Brienne ran to the edge of the path, Jaime took pause. He bent down by the girl’s ear and spoke in hushed tones. “Apologize. Tell them you didn’t mean it.”

“No!” At the girl’s refusal, Jaime shrugged.

“Very well. Allow me to introduce you to Lord Tywin. You can share your opinions on his youngest son and heir.”

Everyone at court knew of Tywin Lannister; even a girl of ten. With panicked eyes, she looked to Brienne and Tyrion.

“I’m very sorry to you both. I was rude and didn’t mean it.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide, and she reached for Tyrion’s hand. As Tyrion put a protective arm around Brienne, he smirked at Jaime knowingly. This wouldn’t end well for Allana just as it never ended well for children who insulted Tyrion at the Rock.

Jaime forced a smile and nodded at them. “I’ll be back. Allana and I are just going to take a quick walk around the gardens and talk.”

The information seemed to settle Brienne, and Tyrion guided her back towards their table. Dragging the girl into the Keep, Jaime stormed towards the throne room. Jaime knew that since the girl was in the gardens with friends, it was likely that court was in session.

The closer they moved towards the throne room, the more the girl panicked. “Please! I apologized!”

“I gave you more than one chance. You have no place here if this is how you conduct yourself.”

Pushing into the throne room, Jaime yanked the girl forward. Her father rushed towards the aisle; his eyes wide in panic. “Allana!?”

Selwyn’s eyes narrowed at the commotion near the back of the throne room. Despite having a petitioner before him, Selwyn waved Jaime forward with the girl.

At the base of the stairs, Brynden and Lyn stood on guard. Their brows rose at the sight of Jaime dragging a girl of ten towards the base of the stairs. With the father at his back, Jaime held the girl before Selwyn.

“Your Grace, this is the girl that insulted your daughter in the past. I spoke with her once about it, but she saw fit to insult her again today. I do believe the words spoken were, ‘ugly creatures stick together’ in relation to the princess and my brother.”

Selwyn’s eyes went wide and he stood from the throne in a rage. The father gasped and grabbed his daughter’s arm. “Allana!? Tell me this is not true.”

The girl stammered and tears spilled from her eyes. “I was japing. It isn’t my fault.”

_Isn’t your fault? Dolt._

Selwyn’s nostrils flared as he appraised the young girl. His eyes darted to Allana’s father in disgust. “This is the second time that your daughter has insulted mine. Lord Edgar, you and your daughter are banned from court. I’ll not have my daughter, _your_ future queen, insulted by your House.”

Jaime smiled at the decree. To prevent a Crownlands vassal from attending court was a social death sentence.

“Your Grace! I apologize for my daughter’s words, but please, allow me to attend on behalf of my House. Allana will remain home with her mother.”

“No.” Selwyn’s tone was filled with rage. “A child of this age is not cruel by nature. It is a learned behavior. If she is of poor character, then it has been learned from your House; perhaps even yourself.”

The lord recoiled as if struck. He stammered but bowed and grabbed his daughter’s arm. The girl sobbed as he pulled her from court. It was likely that the family’s purse would suffer at their newfound inability to negotiate with other vassals, and the girl’s prospects for marriage would be limited.

Selwyn’s eyes darted to Jaime and his tense muscles relaxed. “Thank you. Where is Brienne?”

“Still in the gardens with my brother. They’re taking lunch together.”

Turning towards Ned, Selwyn spoke commandingly. “I’ll leave you to it, Lord Hand. We’ll speak later.”

From the corner of the room, Pycelle stammered and stepped forward. “Your Grace… the petitioners…”

“Will speak with my Hand.” Selwyn interrupted Pycelle. His tone was a warning as he continued. “My daughter needs my ear right now more than the people. Our future queen will have my attention for the remainder of the day. Rearrange my schedule.”

Grabbing Jaime’s arm, Selwyn inclined his head. “Take me to her, Ser Jaime. Then you can have some time alone with your brother while I spend the day with my daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is the Butterbumps from the books who performed with Moon Boy.. Jaime's favorite. And yes, I had them play a version of Headbands because why not? Cyvasse isn't as amusing for a sleepover party of knights.


	20. Barristan III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six moons after Selwyn wed Genna, word arrives of Dornisih rebels moving against the West.

It was 286ac and just over half a year following Selwyn’s wedding to Genna. For moons, Barristan watched from afar as another woman he loved walked around on the arm of royalty. Like Ashara, Genna appeared equally unhappy, but Genna’s husband was kind and unexpecting. He was a friend. 

With Selwyn, there were no forced beddings or expectations. Somehow, that knowledge made it hurt that much more. The king was spending more of his days with Brienne, which left Genna ample time alone and in need of a guard. Barristan tried to avoid guard duty for Genna by placing Jaime with her and taking Jaime’s rotations guarding Brienne. It worked out well-enough given Barristan was training the young princess, but Genna was always on the back of Barristan’s mind. 

Unlike Ashara, Genna noticed Barristan. After their confessed love the night before her wedding, Barristan became acutely aware of her every movement. When Genna passed, her hand brushed his or her eyes lingered a moment past propriety. She often used forms of touch not considered indecent between friends, but the tingle that lingered from the contact took hours to fade.

Then word arrived that the Dronish rebels were making their way northwest. As Oberyn predicted, they were moving quietly through the Reach so as not to draw the eye of the crown. They began slaying Westerlands soldiers in the southernmost villages they came across, and Oberyn called the banners for war. Joining Oberyn at the frontlines in battle would be Barristan, Jaime, Arthur, and Brynden. The rest of the Kingsguard would remain behind to guard their princess. Of course, Selwyn _insisted_ on joining the army.

Barristan hated the decision, but Selwyn refused to stand by as the West was attacked. In truth, he would fight for any kingdom in need of aid. This was not for a debt owed, but rather a point to be made. Any threat against a kingdom was a threat against the crown. 

Prince Doran called his loyal vassals to press against their rebelling brethren. The Reach was more than eager to give aid considering the opposition. Tywin would descend upon the rebelling Dornish contingent from the north, and together, they sought to stamp out the rebellion quickly.

Dorne never forgot a slight whether during wartime or peacetime. Barristsan’s personal history with House Yronwood was proof enough of that. As the Kingsguard prepared to depart in the courtyard, loved ones wished them well in battle. 

Lady Lyanna and Ser Arthur were recently betrothed, and they would marry in two years. It took much negotiating to appease the Stormlands given Arthur’s lack of lands and resources to offer the lady of Storm’s End. Selwyn had to intercede several times when vassals expressed worry over the Stormlands being left behind, but Selwyn promised a proper match for little Lyarra Baratheon. 

Per agreement with House Stark, Lyarra’s firstborn son would inherit Storm’s End _and_ take the name Baratheon regardless of her match. For Lyanna, it felt a fair concession when the time came for her daughter to wed and have babes. Lyanna was after all supported as the Lady of Storm’s End solely due to her acknowledged marriage to Robert. Ultimately, she only cared to be with Arthur, and she understood how rare it was to be afforded a love match.

That concession plus backing from Selwyn, a king from the Stormlands, helped appease the vassals. Further, Ser Cortnay was doing a wonderful job as Castellan at Storm’s End while Lyanna split time between the Red Keep and her holding. For the next two years, Lyanna and Arthur would be separated however. 

Lyanna needed to spend more time at Storm’s End with Ser Cortnay so that Lyarra had exposure to her lands and people. Of course Arthur had been displeased, but he greatly appreciated the aid from Ned and Selwyn to make the match happen. 

Barristan was happy for his sworn brother. After all that Arthur endured under Aerys, and the loss of Ashara, he was owed happiness. House Stark bid their goodbyes to their king, Brynden, and Ser Arthur, while Genna pulled Jaime into a firm hug. For appearance, she gave Selwyn a hug and kiss to the cheek, but Barristan knew that she worried for the king as a friend, so the act was not entirely disingenuous. 

Barristan always despised sendoffs. Even in wars past, he had no kin nor secret lover to bid farewell to. This was yet another harsh reminder of that fact, and a nod to why Barristan would live only by his old vows. Despite that, if Barristan concentrated enough, he could still feel Genna’s lips on his. 

It was his first kiss, though not his first attempt. He had tried to kiss his first love once, ironically in an effort to bid her farewell as he rode into battle; the war of the Ninepenny Kings.

When his betrothed, Lady Delia, only turned away and whispered a goodbye, he knew. For some time, Barristan wondered at the looks exchanged between Delia and his cousin, but in that moment, it was confirmed. As he left Harvest Hall, he considered what a favor it would be to the pair of them if he died in battle. 

Perhaps it was that consideration that allowed him to act so boldly when the time came. He had charged at Maelys like a man possessed, and he did his duty as a knight. Unfortunately for Delia, Barristan survived the war, but she was soon rewarded when Barristan was offered the chance to join the Kingsguard.

Now as Barristan mounted his horse and looked to the west, he waited for the others to join him at the edge of the courtyard. A hand at Barristan’s leg caught his attention. He glanced down into the unimpressed gaze of Genna. “Are you not going to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye, _your Grace_.” Barristan drawled the title. He knew that Genna despised it as much as Selwyn did. 

Genna huffed in annoyance and pinched his leg. “Hush up, Selmy. Please, be careful.”

“I’ll not let harm befall our king or your nephew.” Barristan glanced back at Selwyn as the king pulled Brienne into a firm embrace. At her back, Ser Jon smiled and donned the flower that Brienne had given him that morning. 

“I meant you. Don’t do anything foolish or self-sacrificing.” Genna took pause before speaking sarcastically. “That’s an order.”

When they rode out from the city, Barristan glanced back briefly before setting his sights to the west. Inwardly, he hoped that all of House Yronwood was present. Even if not, one man in particular would do. He would never forget the face of Lord Yronwood’s second son; a vicious man with a scar running down his cheek. 

At the time, Lord Yronwood’s son was around eight-and ten when he killed Barristan’s mother and brother. Now the man who had haunted Barristan’s dreams for much of his life was unlikely to be at the frontlines if he was there at all. 

Rumors held that the rebels were carving a path towards the Rock and Clegane’s Keep. While Gregor was dead, the rest of his kin was not. Any other soldiers the Dornish rebels came across on their travels were purely collateral damage. Knowing the unlikelihood of the rebels successfully sieging the Rock, the crown’s forces instead moved towards Clegane Keep. It was on the way there that they came upon a large portion of the rebelling group.

It wasn’t much of a battle, but it was a wish fulfillment for Barristan. The rebels had not anticipated a full army backed by the crown, nor Prince Doran’s remaining vassals, their own brothers in arms, at their backs. When the disoriented rebels scattered, Barristan saw him. He wasn’t moving under a banner; none of the rebels were. Still, Barristan saw his face.

It took only a look from across the field for the man to run. Breaking formation, Barristan urged his horse ahead, Barristan yanked a spear out of a dead rebel as he passed. As his horse closed in on the Yronwood knight seeking to destroy another group of innocents in retaliation for the action of one man, Barristan took aim at the man’s left leg. Shoving the spear down into the man’s calf, Barristan slowed his horse and dismounted in a blind rage. 

As his chest heaved with anger, Barristan unsheathed his sword and stared at the older man writhing in pain on the ground. The spear had gone through the man’s leg and brought him to a knee. A similar position to the one his mother had been in. 

On approach, he smashed the hilt of his sword across the man’s temple. As the man fell to his hands and knees, Barristan crouched down. “Did you even know their names, or did you not care?”

The man’s face was contorted in pain, and no reply came. Barristan leaned close and snarled. “You should have looked under the bed.”

Wide, frightened eyes met Barristan’s. Standing quickly, Barristan stepped behind the man and shoved his sword through the lord’s head. It was only after the deed was done that Barristan realized the fighting was done, and there was a crowd around him.

Glancing to his back, Barristan saw Jaime holding back Arthur. At their backs, Brynden and Selwyn stood in stunned silence. Shame flooded Barristan at his rage-fueled slaying of the Yronwood knight. 

With his head hanging in embarrassment, Barristan walked back towards the group. On the way, Oberyn grabbed his arm. “Don’t hang your head. He took unjust vengeance many years ago, and now you’ve returned it with just vengeance.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide and Oberyn raised a knowing brow in reply. “He bragged about it at court when I was a boy. My father said, ‘You missed two, and they’ll come for you. We won’t stop them.’ Good riddance. He was a miserable shit.”

With that, Oberyn walked away, but the inquisitive eyes of Selwyn, Brynden, and Arthur remained. Jaime knew, but he said nothing of it, and Barristan was grateful for that.

On the road home, it was Jaime’s turn to wake Barristan from the night terrors. It was a wordless comradery as Jaime sat beside Barristan and waited for him to find rest again. No one asked _why_ , but Selwyn offered some brandy. “It makes the dreams stop.”

Barristan wanted nothing to do with the drink. It made dreams stop, but never the memories. “No.”

“Genna thinks that talking…” Selwyn’s sentence would not reach completion before Barristan put up a plaintive hand.

“No, please. I just… time will suffice.” 

* * *

When they returned to King’s Landing, there was a celebratory feast. Selywn praised how well the kingdoms fought and came together, but Barristan still felt shame at his behavior. He had lost his composure. 

The Kingsguard and commanding officers celebrated the victory as one. It was a celebratory atmosphere, but Barristan wasn’t in the mood to partake. A sudden presence at his side caught Barristan’s attention. “Did you see it happen?” Genna stared intently at Barristan as she sat beside him. 

“What?” Barristan was confused at the lack of context, but Genna shuffled closer and leaned into his ear. 

“Oberyn told them. He told me.”

Barristan’s eyes drifted to the Viper who was across the hall and laughing loudly with other members of the Kingsguard and bannerman. A heavy sigh pushed past Barristan’s lips. He rubbed aggressively at his forehead and winced before returning his gaze to Genna.

“I was under the bed like a coward.” The bitterness that Barristan felt never dulled with time. 

A warm hand rubbed the back of his neck, and gentle words whispered into his ear. “Look at Princess Brienne over there. At six years old, would you call her craven if she hid?”

“That’s quite different. She is a young lady and not charged with protecting a younger sibling.”

Genna grabbed Barristan’s face and turned it towards her. “Stop it. You were five! You were certainly not responsible for such things.”

Realizing their proximity both shuffled away and glanced around. Genna placed a hand under the table and on Barristan’s leg. The touch was dizzying and warmth spread through his body. He wasn’t accustomed to 

touch from anyone. He supposed his mother embraced him as a boy or ran a gentle hand through his hair, but try as he might, Barristan couldn’t remember it. 

“Where was your father? Was he off to war somewhere?”

Barristan had no desire to speak of such things, particularly not in such a public setting. “He was at war with a tankard of ale or between some whore’s legs, I imagine.”

Abruptly, Genna stood upright. “I’ll be right back.”

Genna moved across the hall towards Selwyn. He was conversing with Ned and Arthur when Genna approached, but he stopped to lean down and speak with her. The conversation was brief and Genna soon walked across the room towards Barristan.

“I’m tired. Selwyn assigned you to escort me back.” Genna waited expectantly and raised an impatient brow. 

With a sigh, Barristan stood and left his cup of wine unfinished. He never abstained from drinking, but he ordinarily stuck to one drink to avoid sloppiness. He never wanted to become his father, or at times, Selwyn. 

Selwyn was a good man and presented himself well publically, but Barristan saw him at night when away from court. The man had unhealthy coping mechanisms much like Barristan’s father. The only difference was that Selwyn was a good man.

Barristan walked beside Genna silently as they moved through the Keep. When they arrived at Selwyn’s room, Barristan bowed his head. “Goodnight.”

Genna snorted and dragged Barristan by the arm. “You know that I don’t sleep there. I sleep in my room. Come talk to me. That wasn’t an appropriate setting.”

Barristan felt unease set in. He didn’t trust himself alone with Genna. His feelings for her were overwhelming at times and made anything he once thought to feel for Delia and Ashara seem like childish infatuations. 

“I shouldn’t. I’m to stand guard in the hallway and…”

Genna was hearing none of it. She tugged him into her room and shut the door behind them. Unexpectedly, she pulled Barristan into a firm embrace. At first, the gesture startled Barristan. Aside from Genna embracing him like that once before, Barristan couldn’t recall such touch from others. Barristan had often wished that he had hugged his mother that night.

When the shock wore off, Barristan felt his body sink into the touch. It was comforting and warm. He wasn’t certain why, but it made him want to cry. 

“You’re very brave, Barristan. Braver than any man I know. You could never be a coward.”

At Genna’s words, Barristan considered his failures. He hid under a bed as his mother and brother died. He stood unmoving as Aerys murdered Rickard and Brandon. He heard Rhaella’s screams and didn’t act. He couldn’t get to Elia, Aegon, and Ashara fast enough.

For years, Barristan told himself that enduring Aerys was his oath. It felt easier to hide his cowardice behind vows; to tell himself he _couldn’t_ act because it broke some agreement made before gods and men. In truth, he just felt like that little boy hiding under a bed as terrible things happened.

“I’m not. Your nephew is much braver than me. He did what I couldn’t.”

Genna pulled back from the embrace and cupped his face. Despite being a good deal shorter, Genna had a way of making Barristan feel small. “Don’t compare yourself to him. You had different lives and circumstances. Yes, he is brave, but that doesn’t mean you are craven.”

Barristan knew the words were not true, but he was tired; too tired to argue the point. He would always carry the guilt of not acting sooner. Genna guided Barristan towards the bed and barked at him. “Lay down. You look exhausted.”

The command made Barristan roll his eyes. “I think you misunderstand who is meant to be doing the guarding.”

“Just shut up and lay down. Boots off though! I’ll not have you ruin my silks. Gods only know what you’ve stomped through in battle.”

_This woman is incorrigible._

Barristan sighed and shook his head. “I’m not tired. I’ve had ample sleep.”

The reply which greeted him was nothing short of a hard shove to the chest as Genna pushed him onto the bed. “I said nothing of being physically tired. Emotionally tired is far worse. I should know. I spent most of my years married to Emmon or near my brother.”

Barristan grumbled at the words as he sat on Genna’s bed. It felt an inappropriate place to be, but Genna cared little for his protests. Her hand reached out and gestured at his sword belt. “That too. I’ll not see my bed torn to shreds if you decide the pillow is a threat.”

The request was unsettling and Barristan shook his head in refute. Granted he was not wearing armor nor _technically_ on duty, but Selwyn trusted Barristan to see Genna safely to her room and guard her until he was ready to retire.

“I have to stand guard, Genna. I’m certain his Grace will be back soon, and I should be outside waiting.”

Genna snorted and shook her head. “He doesn’t expect you on duty. He means for me to take care of you. He’s worried about you. Quite honestly, your sworn brothers are too, which makes me worried. Given all that you, Jaime, and Arthur endured under Aerys, if _they_ are worried over what they saw in battle, then that makes me worried. 

Barristan’s jaw hung open in reply. He was shocked at the affect his behavior had on the others. Panic coursed through his body and he glanced questioningly at Genna. “Are they afraid of my behavior? I’ll never do it again. I… it’s the first time that I lost my composure like that. If King Selwyn is uneasy by my presence though, I’ll give him my cloak.”

“Barristan, stop!” Genna leaned down and forced eye contact. “Of course they’re not afraid of what they saw. They’re _worried_. Is it such a stretch to believe that people care for you?”

A reply proved unnecessary. Genna was displeased enough with whatever response she saw in Barristan’s eyes. With a heavy sigh, Genna reached for Barristan’s sword belt and began to unbuckle it. “I’ll not throw your precious sword over the balcony. It will just be on the table.”

It was as though Genna was caring for a child. She continued explaining each action as she tugged off Barristan’s boots and pushed him backwards onto the bed. Genna crawled next to him and laid on his chest; her arm draped over his middle as she pressed close at his side. 

“Tell me about her. Your mother.”

Barristan groaned and closed his eyes. “I don’t like talking. You know this.”

“I’m not asking about _that_ night. I’m asking about _her_.” Genna’s fingers rubbed soothing circles against Barristan’s side. 

“I don’t remember much about her. I try to remember all the time, but I can’t. Aside from that night, I only remember feeling cared for.” 

Genna shuffled closer and squeezed Barristan. “Did your father not make you feel that way?”

“No.” The reply was curt, and Barristan immediately felt badly about it. “I’m sorry. I don’t care to talk about him.”

“Barristan?” Genna tilted up her head to study his face. “Does Selwyn remind you of him? Sometimes you seem… agitated.”

Once again, Barristan worried that his own issues had come off inappropriately. Selwyn was a good man and a king deserving of respect. He had shown Barristan nothing but kindness, and Barristan worried at what the king thought.

“He’s a good man and an incredible king. He cares for the people and kingdoms. I just don’t care for the drinking. Brienne deserves his attention. His _sober_ attention.” 

Genna’s hand reached up to cradle Barristan’s cheek. Her thumb stroked his skin gently and she hummed. “He loves her very much, but he admits to struggling as a father. She reminds him of his wife, and he knows that he isn’t coping in healthy ways. He’s a good man, but he is troubled.”

“Still, she needs him. You had to endure loss, but you don’t use wine or ale or that awful brandy to cope.” Barristan didn’t wish to sound angry, but his tone was harsher than intended. 

Genna leaned up onto her side. “Or you. Is that what you mean to say? Because you don’t drink to cope with your pain, you don’t think that he should. Is your way better? Keeping everything bottled up inside?”

“I don’t do that.” Barristan grumbled in reply, but now it was Genna’s turn to sound harsh.

“You shoved your sword through a defeated man’s skull. That isn’t the composed Lord Commander that I’ve known for eighteen moons. No one fears your actions or worries that you’ve gone mad. They worry for your happiness.”

_Happiness. What is happiness anyway? Being alive? Not serving Aerys?_

It struck Barristan then that he didn’t know if he was happy. He certainly felt pleased when he shoved his sword that the Yronwood shit, but that feeling was fleeting before shame took over. 

He thought he was happy once when he first joined the Kingsguard and felt a sense of comradery. To that point, he was lacking family and acceptance. It was a welcome change to not feeling alone or _in the way_. Currently, Barristan felt as though he had use and purpose, but Barristan wondered if that was happiness.

“I am fine.” Barristan didn’t believe his own words, but perhaps Genna wouldn’t notice the question rolling around in his thoughts. “Are you happy?”

Barristan was eager to shift the focus from himself to Genna. He knew that Selwyn was a great friend to her and cared for her happiness, but Barristan wondered if she was happy.

“I’m content. Jaime means the world to me, and I’m happy to see him well. He seems like a different person now than when I first arrived. I think he’s happy to be accepted by you and the other knights. I’m also thrilled to have Selwyn as a friend. We relate on many levels, and we challenge one another to be better. I just wish… I wish that I could have those things _and_ love, but I’m content with what I have.”

Barristan swallowed thickly and nodded in understanding. An awkward silence settled over them, and soon they began discussing safer topics. As they spoke, Barristan felt his eyelids growing heavy. 

He had not slept well since the battle, and he knew that he should leave, but being with Genna was the most comfortable that he had ever been. The feel of Genna pressed close, the sound of her soothing voice, and the sensation of her thumb stroking his face lulled Barristan to sleep.

When Barristan awoke, it was the middle of the night. The room was dark and the fire had gone out. In sleep, Barristan had shifted and was on his side; face to face with Genna. It all felt like a dream, and Barristan was somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Pulling Genna closer, Barristan kissed her temple as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Genna stirred and brought her hand to his face. “Barristan.” His name on her lips was thick with sleep.

“I'm here.” Barristan spoke the words absently as he pulled her closer. He didn’t know why, but he kissed her softly. The action wasn’t premeditated, but it set something off in both of them.

“Barristan.” Genna’s voice was needier and her fingers ran through his hair. Her fingers curled around the back of his head, pulling him close and pressing a return kiss to his lips.

It happened in a blur. Hands tugged at clothing, and lips crashed together. Every action taken was on impulse rather than considered. When Genna moved on top of him, Barristan reached up for her face. She was beautiful and everything he dreamed of. For as loud and domineering as Genna could be in public, she was tender and subdued in private. 

It felt surreal; like a dream that Barristan feared waking from. When Genna sank down onto him, Barristan gasped. He had never been with a woman before, but with Genna, it felt instinctive. His hips rose to meet her, and Genna leaned down to place a deep kiss to his lips. Her tongue dragged across his lips and encouraged them apart. Kissing her was like a spar, but one he didn’t mind losing. 

As her body moved up and down his length, Barristan grasped at her hips like a drowning man clinging to a raft. Both were fully awake now and their eyes never left each other. It was slow and gentle, and Genna whispered against his lips. “I love you.”

“Genna. Please.” Barristan didn’t know what he needed, but he knew that only Genna could give it. “I love you.”

Genna took control and moved faster atop him. She straightened and placed her palms on his chest. The change in pace heightened everything, and Barristan knew he wouldn’t last. 

His fingers dug into Genna’s hips as she moaned loudly. The sensation of building towards something together coursed through Barristan. He needed his body to wait, but he didn’t know how to control it. 

Since the time that Barristan was old enough to want, he chased release alone. Now an overwhelming desire to please Genna took over. Being his first time, Barristan worried at how best to do that. Barristan pushed himself upright and flipped them over. Genna gasped in reply and tugged him closed with her legs and hands. 

“Harder.” Genna’s breathless demand encouraged Barristan to move at an increased pace. Leaning onto his left arm as he pushed deeper, Barristan kissed her lips and jaw. His words were desperate as he whispered into her ear.

“Genna. I’m going to spill.”

She held him in place with her legs and tipped her head back. “Don’t stop.”

Barristan did as she asked. His body tensed as he neared release, but by the mercy of the gods, Genna found her release first. With a loud cry and his name on her lips, Genna’s body tensed and her walls began to contract around Barristan’s cock. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Barristan tried to move off Genna, but her legs were like a vice grip around his hips. He spilled before he could unsheathe himself; a frantic apology on his lips. Genna only pulled him closer and placed a deep kiss to his lips. 

“Tywin has Pycelle ready to provide any moon tea that I require.” A small laugh pushed past Genna’s lips as she placed another kiss to his lips. “If that was your first time, I’m quite excited about what is to come.”

In the moment, Barristan didn’t think of the consequences of what they had done. HIs mind was consumed with all things Genna. The love he felt for her was like an all-consuming blanket that shielded them from the world. Both drifted back to sleep as they lay wrapped in one another’s arms. It wasn’t until the next day when the blanket was thrown back and panic set in.

Barristan dressed quickly and felt his lungs struggling to collect air. At his back, Genna tried to calm him and offer reassurance. “Barristan, please. He gave me allowance for this. He changed your vows. It’s alright.”

“I can’t… we can’t. I broke every law and oath there is. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dishonored you.” Barristan was petrified of the implications for Genna. He would offer his head. He would offer to take the black. He would offer anything for Genna to be excused for his actions.

When he went to the door, Barristan froze. _The Kingsguard. Oh gods. They’ll be outside._

Barristan wasn’t certain if he wanted to cry or scream, but all he could do was slump to the ground with his back against the door. _I need Selwyn to find out from me; not them. I need to tell him now._

Pushing off the floor and walking towards the adjoining door, Barristan raised his hand to knock, but Genna was at his side. She whisper-yelled at him to stop the madness. “Please. Come back to bed. It’s fine.”

Barristan pulled her close and swallowed down the tears threatening to spill. “Tell him that you didn’t want to; that I forced you. I’ll tell him as much. I'm sorry.”

Turning back to the door, Barristan knocked lightly and bit his lip. _Gods. Please don’t let him be angry at Genna._

Fast-moving footsteps approached the door, and when it swung open quickly, Barristan was not prepared for what followed. 

“Good morning! Come in! I called up for food. I know how much you like those candied pecans. Well lucky for you, the baker had pecan bread. I know it’s not the same, but humor me.”

Barristan’s jaw went slack as Genna pushed past him. “Morning, Sel.”

_What? Is this my last meal?_

“Your Grace, please. I need to speak with you.” Barristan stammered as Genna took a seat and unfolded her napkin.

Selwyn grabbed Barristan’s arm and guided him towards the table. “Yes, yes. Fine. Can you do that while we eat? Gods. I was worried the pair of you might sleep all day. The food smells wonderful and I’m fucking hungry.”

“Your Grace, you don’t understand. I… I committed treason. I did something awful…”

Selwyn chuckled and took a seat beside Genna. He reached for his napkin and raised his brow playfully. “It didn’t sound awful. I never took Genna for a screamer, though I was worried about what she might call out. By the gods… if she yelled out ‘lord commander’, I feared never being able to call you that again with a straight face.”

Barristan stood in a mix of shock and horror as the pair of them began to eat and sip their tea. “Your Grace, you need to take my head or send me to the Wall if you're feeling generous.”

Selwyn dropped his fork and glanced back at Barristan as though he had gone mad. “Why the hells would I do that? You know of my _arrangement_ with Genna, and you’re quite aware of your freedom in the new vows.”

The words did little to ease Barristan’s mind. “It matters not. You’re married in the eyes of gods and men. I can’t possibly…”

“Would you sit down? You’re making me crane my neck which is not something that I’m accustomed to.” Selwyn pointed at the empty seat to Genna’s side. “And keep your voice down. I do believe Jaime is on duty this morning. He doesn’t need to know of his aunt’s _knight_ -time activities.”

Genna groaned in distaste. “I beg of you… not that.” 

“I’ve been saving these, and I’m going to use them. Stop ruining this for me.”

As the pair began to bicker playfully, Barristan sank into the vacant seat. He gaped at them in horror, but they hardly seemed to notice. His lips moved of their own accord; the words but a whisper on his lips. “I broke my vows.”

Both stopped talking and looked at him, but it was Selwyn who spoke. “Barristan, you swore a vow not to wed or father children, but I don’t recall anything in the vows about chastity. Further, those were your _original_ vows, or do you forget Arthur’s looming marriage to Lyanna. You also swore to guard my secrets. My secret is shared with Genna. Our marriage is in name alone, but she is an incredible woman and I want her to be happy just as I want you to be happy. My happiness is sleeping just a few doors down. Now will you eat something? You’re making me feel like a glutton.”

Barristan’s jaw flapped several times before Genna reached over and grabbed his arm. “I told Sel that I shared the truth of my marriage with you. It’s fine. Of course, I didn’t expect last night to happen. I only meant to comfort you, but I’m not sorry for it. Though… if you are...”

Barristan’s eyes went impossibly wider and he shook his head in refute. The words were too personal to speak aloud, but Barristan leaned over and whispered into her ear. “I could never regret it. I meant what I said.”

Genna’s hand reached up for his face and she smiled softly. “Good. Now eat.” 


	21. Brienne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne spends time with Roelle, and learns quite a lot about fact versus opinion.

Brienne’s eyes looked towards the Blackwater at the ships sailing towards port. It was midway through 287ac, and despite having lived in King’s Landing for three years, Brienne did not feel at home. 

Brienne was young when she left Tarth, but she vaguely recalled the many visitors to the islands. Tarth had its own culture, but they enjoyed guests from all over the known world that shared their own cultures, stories, and backgrounds. Brienne enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells of the visiting traders' wares. 

In King’s Landing however, Brienne felt like an unwanted outsider. She had tried to play with the other children of court, but they avoided her for fear of offense, or made remarks that caused Brienne to feel like some kind of monster. 

Of course, Brienne never told anyone. The only Kingsguard to witness such an altercation was Ser Jaime, and now Allana was no longer at court. With the other children, Brienne was fearful that if her father punished them too, then she would truly be alone. Brienne didn’t want to be the reason that no one came to court, and that no other children had fun in the gardens.

Though younger than her, Brienne did enjoy visiting Robb Stark and Lyarra Baratheon. Their parents were always kind to her, and she enjoyed helping with Lady Catelyn’s newest babe, a girl named Sansa. Brienne adored babes and loved offering aid whenever possible. Until recently, Brienne imagined that someday, she would have a Keep filled with babes to play with. Then she began to hear the truth of what she was, and Brienne wondered what it meant for her.

 _‘Why do you always have a flower in your hair? Do you think you’re pretty? You’re ugly.’_ Allana’s words were often whispered before she left court, but they were loud enough to make her friends laugh. One remark had turned into two; two had three and grew bolder. That was when Jaime caught her the first time. 

After Allana left, playing in the gardens was more peaceful for Brienne. The other children still avoided her or looked away anxiously, but Brienne concentrated on making flower crowns for her father, or watching the Kingsguard spar. A few of the Kingsguard had started training her, but Ser Barristan and Ser Arthuer were her primary instructors. 

Inwardly, Brienne wondered if someone might give her a crown of flowers one day as knights were meant to crown the queen of love and beauty at tourneys. Galladon gave her a flower crown on her fourth name day, but he died not long after that. 

Brienne missed Galladon and prayed that her father would give her another sibling. At night, she prayed to the gods and promised she would behave if they gave her someone to play with. On Tarth, the children had played with Galladon, and by consequence, Brienne.

Then Brienne tried to befriend the big knights, the Kingsguard, but they were not friends so much as guards that she rarely saw. They typically leaned against the wall outside her bedchamber door or stood at a distance when she sat outside for lessons once or twice a day. 

Brienne loved watching them spar and laugh together. It felt like watching Galladon, and it reminded Brienne of home. Barristan, Arthur and Brynden were her favorites. They trained her and laughed with her, but they also willingly wore the flowers she gave them. 

Jon and Arys were very nice, but they preferred speaking with the other knights rather than indulging Brienne’s endless array of questions. Lyn was always scowling, but he was a very good swordsman. Still, Brienne generally left him alone. Jaime was physically there, but his mind always seemed elsewhere. He was the youngest kingsguard, so Brienne imagined that perhaps he just wanted to glo play with friends too. 

From across the table, Roelle scolded Brienne. “Where did you go!? Focus on your lessons. Try that stitch again.”

 _Sewing. I hate sewing._ “Septa Roelle?”

“What child?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed in question. “When I’m queen, do I get a handmaiden or seamstress?”

Roelle scoffed and shook her head in dismay. “Of course.”

“Then why must I learn to sew?”

Jaime laughed loudly at the question, but Brienne hardly understood what was so funny. It was a genuine question. She turned to appraise the youngest Kingsguard, but he was looking away and biting back a laugh. 

Jaime hadn’t been assigned to guard Brienne very much over the last two years. Since Selwyn began spending so much time with Brienne, Genna needed her own guard, and she seemed to prefer Jaime or Barristan. 

Roelle glared at the knight before turning to Brienne in reply. “What did I tell you about earning a match? You must have _some_ skill.”

Brienne wasn’t certain what skills were, but she seemed to have none of them. All she knew was what Septa Roelle told her. She knew her failings. Awkward. Clumsy. Disobedient. Boyish. And, of late, ugly.

Ugly. She had heard the word directed at her in the past, but after the incident two years ago in the gardens with Tyrion and Jaime, only Septa Roelle continued to use the word. Then there was the matter of a match. 

Brienne didn’t entirely understand that either, but it sounded awful. Septa Roelle tried to get Brienne to do things, like sewing, that were not fun. If sewing earned a match, she didn’t want it. 

“Can’t I have a different match?”

Septa Roelle dropped her needlework and huffed. “A what? Do you even know what you’re asking about child?”

“I don’t want a sewing match. That’s not fun. Training with swords is fun.”

Again, Jaime laughed and tried to muffle the sound with his hand. He turned away and squinted into the distance. The Septa glared at him again, but slowly turned back to Brienne.

“Just be happy if you get anything. You’re certainly not in a position to be making requests.”

Brienne considered the words, and she wondered if it was because of what Roelle often said. In truth, she had been thinking about it a lot. For years, Brienne had wondered at the reaction she received from others. Aside from her father, Genna, and the Kingsguard, no one seemed pleased when they looked upon her.

“Is it because I’m ugly?” Brienne’s tone was matter-of-fact, and while the question didn’t rattle Septa Roelle, Jaime sucked in a sharp breath. 

Without reply, Roelle stood from her chair and grabbed Brienne by the wrist. “Come with me.”

They moved quickly through the Keep, and Jaime kept pace at their backs. Brienne wondered if she was in trouble. _Did I ask the wrong question? Am I not allowed to ask about my ugliness?_

When they arrived at Brienne’s room, Roelle shut the door behind them, leaving Ser Jaime in the hallway as always. Septa Roelle tugged her towards the corner of the room where a small table was set out. With a heavy sigh, Roelle shoved Brienne into the seat and picked up the looking glass. Holding it before Brienne, Roelle spoke commandingly. “Tell me what you see.”

The instruction confused Brienne. “I see me.”

Roelle huffed in annoyance and shook her head. “Don’t be such a dolt. What do you see in your features? We go through this _constantly_.”

_I’m failing again. I never know the answers._

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Roelle grumbled in irritation. “We’ve been over this. Do you see your skin? It’s far too pale and covered in freckles. No one likes that. _Men_ won’t like that. Your hair. Do you see how uncooperative it is? How many times must I fix it throughout the day? It is not silky like spun gold, but brittle like straw, and quite dull. Then there is your mouth. The lips are far too thick and wide. Your teeth misshapen and ill-fitted to your mouth. Your eyes are the only beautiful thing about you, but no one can see them past the ugliness. That is what the gods have given me to work with. It certainly doesn’t help that you’re bigger than boys nearly twice your age. Playing with swords is hardly helping that fact! I’ll never understand why your father encourages such boyish behavior when you already look more prince than princess. Here…”

Roelle shoved the mirror into Brienne’s hand and stormed towards the bookshelf. She grabbed multiple books and threw them onto the table. “Look at those maidens. They are pretty. Do you see those knights in shining armor that you enjoy so much? Well they _want_ to rescue those maidens. Do you think they would want to rescue you?”

Brienne glanced between the books and her reflection. Her fingers traced the beautiful faces of the illustrated maidens before her attention returned to the looking glass. Shaking her head in dismay, Brienne found the correct answer, or rather, Roelle’s correct answer. “No.”

Roelle pulled a chair beside Brienne. “These are just facts, child. I simply tell you how it is, so that you may understand the challenges your father faces. Any boy willing to marry you will only do so for the crown. He’ll never love you. He’ll take lovers while you sleep in an adjoining room like the queen. I’m _very_ sorry for it, but it’s the way it must be.”

“Can… can I do anything to fix it? My ugliness that is. I’ll do anything to make it better.” Brienne’s words were as desperate sounding as she felt. 

Roelle sighed and offered a sympathetic glance. “No sooner than I can make myself younger. As I said, just accept whatever comes your way. A girl in your position is in no place to want.”

Tears stung Brienne’s eyes, but Roelle reprimanded her. “None of that now! It won’t fix a thing. Think how lucky you are! As a princess, someone will think the crown is worth marrying you! If we were still on Tarth, no one in their right mind would. That island wouldn’t fetch you a man desperate enough.” 

It was another harsh lesson. Roelle always saved her harshest lessons for the privacy of Brienne’s bedchambers. Unfortunately, most of Brienne’s time over the past two years was spent alone with Roelle when not with her father. The former offered harsh lessons, whereas the latter only offered pleasantries. 

At first, Brienne wanted to believe her father’s loving words, but when she observed how Roelle’s lessoned matched the behaviors of everyone else at court, she became afraid to speak the truth to her father. Brienne feared that giving voice to her failings would lift the veil from his eyes and enable him to see her shortcomings as everyone else did. 

Instead, Brienne painted a picture of false happiness so that her father could live in blissful ignorance; so that he could still love her. She had only just gotten him back two years ago, and Brienne didn’t want to lose him again if he found out the truth of how unworthy she was.

Abruptly, the door burst open, catching both Brienne and Roelle by surprise. Genna moved quickly into the room as Jaime hovered in the doorway. At the queen’s entry, Roelle stood and curtseyed. “Your Grace.” 

Roelle’s eyes flitted to Brienne in demand. Scrambling from the chair, Brienne tried to curtsey, but she stumbled as always. Genna sighed and crouched before Brienne. Her warm hands cupped Brienne’s face and she smiled. “You don’t bow to me, Brienne. You are the heir to the throne. Your father is king, and I’m merely his wife.”

Genna stood and glared at Roelle. “I hear that our princess has a question, and I am most curious to hear the answer provided.”

Brienne glanced up at Roelle and wondered if she was meant to share the lesson learned, or if Roelle, as her instructor, was meant to recite the truth. At Genna’s command, Roelle’s eyes darted to Jaime in anger. 

“The lessons that I impart upon the princess are for her own good and aim to ensure she is prepared for what is to come.”

Genna took a step closer. There was no softness in her voice when she spoke next. “That is not what I asked of you. What did you tell this child?”

“I told her the truth. She is not a pretty girl. It is important that she understands how this will impact her father’s ability to make a match.” Roelle’s reply was cool and matched Genna’s tone. 

Without taking her eyes off Roelle, Genna took a deep breath and spoke in question. “Brienne. Tell me of these _truths_ . Tell me _exactly_ what your septa told you.”

Brienne smiled in reply. Unlike the first time, she knew the answer. She wouldn’t fail. Picking up the looking glass, Brienne studied her features and spoke confidently. Her words mirrored what Septa Roelle had taught her. When she finished reciting the list of facts, Brienne felt a wave of accomplishment at the lesson recalled. 

_I’m ugly, but I’m not a dolt. I know Septa Roelle thinks that I am, but I can learn. I’ll make certain of it so that I’m less disappointing._

Brienne was surprised when her smile was not returned by the other occupants of the room. Genna’s hand reached for the looking glass that Brienne held, but her eyes remained fixed on Roelle.

 _They’re upset by my failings. Will they tell my father?_ Brienne’s smile faded, and she stammered. “I’m sorry that I can’t fix it. I could…”

Brienne never had a chance to finish the sentence before a loud whack and the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the room. She looked up in shock to see Roelle clutching at her face and Genna sneering at the Septa. Shards of glass from the mirror landed on the floor at Roelle’s feet, and a trickle of blood poured down her head. 

“How dare you! Be grateful your future queen is standing beside us, or I’d shove this looking glass down your throat. Jaime… take this miserable cunt to the cells.”

“My pleasure.” Jaime moved quickly towards Roelle and grabbed her roughly by the arm. 

The contact sent Roelle into a panic. “Unhand me! You can’t do this! His Grace has put me in charge of this child’s care, and I’m doing my job!”

“And now I’m taking over since you’ve done so _wonderfully_ at it. Goodbye Septa Roelle. Mind the rats. They’re attracted to all manner of shit.”

As Roelle was unceremoniously dragged from the room, Genna guided Brienne into her own bedchamber just a few doors down the hallway. When they stepped inside, Genna shut the door and pulled Brienne towards a chaise lounge near the window. Genna walked to a table and returned with her own looking glass that she handed to Brienne. With her left arm around Brienne, Genna’s right hand cupped Brienne’s chin and tilted her face upwards. 

“Hold up that looking glass, Brienne. You are seeing things incorrectly.”

Brienne’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she did as instructed. Suddenly the looking glass made Brienne uncomfortable. Now she saw her failures, and Brienne worried at her next lesson.

Tilting the looking glass, Genna spoke softly. “Yes, your skin is fair and you freckle more than most, but it isn’t uncommon. Do you know what I think of freckles?”

Glancing up at Genna, Brienne shook her head slowly in refute. The older woman smiled and pointed to clusters of freckles on Brienne’s face. “I like them. They remind me of the night sky. I’ve always thought the night sky is the most beautiful time to look towards the heavens. Like most things about one’s physical appearance, beauty is subjective. What I like, other people might not like. Perhaps Roelle doesn’t like freckles. That is her loss. Now… your hair.”

Genna inclined her head to indicate that Brienne should look back in the mirror. “Hair comes in all manner of textures and colors. Do you know that in Essos, some people even like to dye their hair difficult colors? I once met a man from Tyrosh who had blue hair! What do you think of all that?”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “Blue? I like the color, but for hair… I don’t know about that…” _That is rather strange. Blue hair?_

Genna chuckled and shrugged. “Again, it’s rather personal in taste. Some people quite like that. Blue hair is not my favorite, but I’m quite partial to blond.” A small smirk tugged at Genna’s lips as she spoke.

_I suppose she likes my father’s hair._

Closing her hand around Brienne’s where it held the handle of the looking glass, Genna raised it once more. “Now it is true that your lips are thicker and wider than most, but some people might like that. More to kiss.”

Brienne’s face scrunched at the words. “Kiss? I don’t want to do that.”

Genna’s chest shook with laughter and jostled Brienne slightly. Like her voice and presence, Genna’s laughter was powerful. Brienne always found herself in awe of the woman who commanded a room. 

“Well you’re only seven. Someday, you might want to kiss someone. Until then, just ignore comments about your lips. You’ll be the only one touching them for some time, or your father might have someone’s head.” 

Brienne nodded her head slowly in understanding. It was very confusing and strange to hear quite the opposite information from Genna than Roelle had given. _I suppose Lady Genna has the right of it. She is in charge; not Roelle. Even my father does what Lady Genna says._

With a heavy sigh, Genna took away the looking glass. “Now as to your height, yes, you’re quite tall. I don’t know how tall you’ll be when you’re done growing, but people come in all shapes and sizes.” Genna shifted uncomfortably and her voice faltered when she next spoke. “My oldest son… he had been quite tall as a child. His shape was _different_ than most, and I loved him all the same.”

Brienne had learned that Genna had two sons who died during the war. No one spoke of them, just as no one spoke of Galladon, her mother, or her sisters. Brienne’s face fell and her eyes looked to the floor.

“Are you still very sad when you think of them? I’m very sad when I think of Galladon.”

A teary smile and nod was the reply received. Genna tugged Brienne closer; her lips pursed together in contemplation. “I like to believe my boys are in the Seven Heavens and having a grand time up there waiting for me someday. I bet they’re playing with Galladon. Now there is one last thing...”

Genna guided Brienne to a standing position so that they were facing one another and at eye level. As Genna continued to sit on the chaise lounge, she spoke seriously. “People can be very mean in this world. They’ll say nasty things to hurt you, but I think that those people are usually the saddest ones. You _must_ ignore them. It doesn’t matter if the whole of Wetseros calls you ugly. You must love yourself, and I firmly believe that there is love for everyone. You mustn’t settle! If someone is mean to you, _do not_ be around the person. It’s not just words you should listen for, but look for actions. If a person is true, their actions mirror their words at all times. Not just to your face, but when you’re not around.”

Brienne let the words sink in slowly. She rolled them around in her mind, and tried to commit them to memory. It was different compared to her many lessons, but Genna was the queen, so it struck Brienne that she must know best. 

Genna stood from the chaise lounge and glanced around the room. “Well I suppose that I’ll be playing the part of Septa for now until we find you someone with more than half a brain. Did you do your sewing for the day?”

Brienne’s face scrunched at the words. “I hate sewing.”

Genna hummed in reply. “I did too. Most of us do. Well perhaps we’ll take a break from that for some time. Have you done your reading today?”

“I’ve read all my books several times, and I’ve been practicing my writing with Lord Tyrion.”

At the mention of Tyrion, Genna beamed. “Oh perfect! How is my troublesome nephew?”

Brienne’s eyes went wide and she spoke desperately. “Oh he’s not troublesome, I swear it!”

Laughter shook Genna’s chest once more. “You take things quite literally. Tyrion is wonderful, I would agree. Like Jaime, I enjoy giving him a hard time. Does he write you often?”

“Yes, about once a week. He gives me clues for things that I have to find the answer to in the library. I like to do my assignments at night though. I used to do them when Septa Roelle took lunch break, but whenever Ser Arthur was to guard me, he was not very well-behaved in the library. Grand Maester Pycelle is always scolding him, and then I have to leave.”

For as much as Brienne adored Arthur, it was very annoying to her when Pycelle kicked them out. Arthur didn’t find Tyrion’s game as enjoyable as Brienne did. Instead, he used the books to build things and he unintentionally bent the pages. Despite it, Brienne did enjoy time with Arthur. He was her favorite Kingsgurad to have guarding her, and Arthur always gave her a flower just as Galladon used to. In truth, Brienne thought that Arthur liked getting kicked out by Pycelle so that they had more time to train in the yards.

Genna chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Yes, Ser Arthur is trouble. So tell me, princess… what lessons have you _not_ yet had today.”

A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face. “My sword lessons. Though, Ser Barristan wants me to work on the joust more. He said my lance arm isn’t strong enough yet.”

Genna hummed knowingly. “Yes, I gather he takes issue with that. Alright, lets get you to the yards. My first act as Septa is to let you pick up a sword. I can only imagine what your father will say about this.”

Brienne ran back to her room to retrieve Galladon’s sword. Strapping it around her waist, Brienne tilted up her chin towards Genna as the queen stood in the doorway. “It doesn’t matter what my father says. What you say goes. I’ve seen it.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Genna’s lips and she grabbed Brienne’s hand. “I like you quite a lot, princess. Much more than most everyone else around here. Lets go find you a knight for training.”

They walked through Maegor’s Holdfast and towards the White Sword Tower. As always, Brienne drew the attention of everyone they passed. It was unusual to see a princess with a dress on and a sword around her waist. Another part of Brienne considered her latest lessons. 

_I think they all find me ugyly, but perhaps one of them doesn’t. Maybe I will get a crown of flowers one day, or perhaps I’ll win it for myself. Lady Genna said that I can be happy with myself._

They soon arrived at the White Sword Tower. Ascending the steps to the fourth level, Brienne’s smile widened as they approached Ser Barristan’s study. He was in charge of all the big knights even though he was the quietest. Brienne liked that about him. As fun as Arthur was, he was very loud and he talked constantly. 

Genna knocked on the door and waited for the call to enter. When they stepped inside, Barristan was behind his desk writing missives. 

“I’ve the princess here for her lessons. Which knight is taking her today?”

Barristan smiled fondly at Brienne. He stood up and rounded the desk. Crouching before Brienne, Barristan smiled widely. “Who would you like today? Ser Ser Brynden is guarding your father, but I think Ser Arthur is around. Ser Jaime is supposed to be guarding you, but I see you’ve found the tougher Lannister instead.” 

The comment earned him a kick to the leg from Genna, but he hardly flinched. 

“Ser Jaime was guarding me, but now he’s in the cells. Can you train me today? Ser Arthur and Ser Brynden only do sword drills with me.”

At Brienne’s words, Barristan startled. He glanced up frantically at Genna who reached down to tug him to full height. With a hand at Barristan’s head, Genna pulled him close and whispered into his ear. Understanding washed over Barristan, and he nodded. “I see.”

Glancing down at Brienne, Barristan smiled. “I’d be honored to train you today. Lance first, though. Then the sword, bow, and morningstar.”

Brienne loved training with Ser Barristan because he showed her all the weapons. As she always did, Brienne grabbed Barristan’s hand and tugged him excitedly into the hallway. 

She smiled up at the tall knight who was renowned throughout the kingdoms, but the pride and joy of the Stormlands. Dorne had Ser Arthur. The West had Ser Jaime. The Riverlands had Ser Byrnden. The Vale had Ser Lyn. But the Stormlands… they had Ser Barristan the Bold. Over time, Brienne lost many memories of her brother, but three things stood out; flowers, his obsession with knighthood and knights, and his death. Galladon had always read tales to Brienne of the great knights; both living and dead.

Galladon’s death still haunted Brienne’s dreams. The image of him struggling against the waves was seared into her mind; his frightened eyes and flailing arms the last moments she recalled. Brienne hated that the gods took him. When Galladon died, it felt as though the sun abandoned all of Tarth. It had been Galladon that kept Evenfall light when her father plunged into darkness. 

Glancing up at Ser Barristan as she tugged him along, Brienne smiled. “Ser Arthur says he wants a rematch this week. He said you’re slowing with age. Can you fight him again?”

Watching the two great knights spar always made Brienne smile. They were well-matched and seemed to take turns in victory. At the question, Barristan hummed. “Did he say that? I must have hit him too hard on the head the other day. We can have a rematch when he’s properly recovered. Lady Lyanna would never forgive me if I permanently broke him.”

At the mention of Lyanna, Brienne smiled widely. Lady Lyanna had been spending time at Storm’s End for the last several moons, and Brienne lamented that she would still be gone for another year and a half. Like Brienne, Lady Lyanna enjoyed weapons training. She was wild and fierce, and Brienne loved that about her. 

Someday, Brienne wanted to be a lady _and_ a warrior like Lyanna. Of course, Lyanna’s brother, Lord Stark, didn’t think it appropriate. Lyanna wasn’t _meant_ to have a sword, he said, but he only laughed when Brienne asked if it was his decision to allow it. _“I’d not tell my sister otherwise. She frightens me.”_ Brienne supposed Lord Ned was japing, but she was not a witty girl, and reading tone did not come easy. 

When they arrived at the yards, Brienne began her drills. Ser Barristan was a demanding teacher, but Brienne liked that. He didn’t go easy on her, and when she excelled at something, he only demanded more. Under his tutelage and the other Kingsguard, Brienne was already sparring squires serving at the Keep. She quite enjoyed knocking the boys into the dirt, though her father seemed slightly horrified. 

As Brienne trained, Genna sat on the rock wall and smiled. Lady Genna smiled a lot; particularly when Ser Barristan was around. It seemed to Brienne that they were very good friends, but they also bickered quite a lot. 

“Not too rough, Barristan!” Genna reprimanded from her stone perch. 

With a dramatic eye roll, Barristan deflected Brienne’s blow and scoffed at Genna. “Hush up. You’re annoying us. She’s tougher than your nephew; that’s for certain.”

“Don’t start that now! I’ll get my nephew out here and he’ll knock you backwards.”

_Oh no. Here they go._

Barristan laughed sarcastically. “Knocking me backwards? Will he be fighting me while I’m chained or unconscious?”

“Do not make me defend my nephew’s honor. I’ll hit you upside the head with your silly sword.” 

The words made Barristan laugh even harder as he blocked another strike from Brienne. “Do you even know which end of a sword to grip? You’ll slice off a limb before reaching me.”

Brienne couldn’t understand why, but Ser Barristan gasped and reddened at Genna’s next comment. “I’ve been told that my grip on a _sword_ is excellent. Quite tight and effective.”

“Lady Genna!” Barristan lowered his sword and offered a warning glare. “If you cannot behave yourself, you’ll need to leave.”

Brienne looked at Barristan strangely. “But she’s the queen. Isn’t she supposed to order you around?”

Genna guffawed and stood from her seat on the rock wall. “Good girl! Very astute observation.”

The queen walked slowly towards Brienne and smiled warmly. “Let me see that sword, child. This man is insolent.”

“Genna…” Barristan’s tone was warning, but Genna only smirked and took the sword.

“What? You heard the princess. I’m in charge, and besides… I supposedly don’t know which end is up. Are you worried about another Lannister thrashing you about the yards, Lord Commander?” Genna had a spark in her eyes as she fumbled with the sword hilt. “I’ve not done this since I was a girl and stole Kevan’s sword.”

“You’ll hurt yourself, Genna…” Barristan eyed Genna warily, but she smirked and swung the sword around. 

“Now watch how it’s done, princess. I’ll get rid of this annoying man for you.” Genna glanced at Barristan as Brienne backed away. Brienne wasn’t so certain that Lady Genna knew what she was doing, but she was excited to watch. 

In the distance, Brienne heard the sound of someone running. Brienne glanced over her shoulder and saw Jaime rushing towards them. She smiled and waved happily, but he looked horrified. “Aunt Genna! What are you doing!?”

Genna swung at Barristan and laughed as he moved out of the way, but didn’t block the blow with his own blade. “Genna, stop it.”

“Come on, Barristan. Just a bit of fun.” Genna gripped the hilt with two hands.

_Her stance is awful and she’s doing it all wrong. I don’t think she can beat the squires. I’m not even certain she can beat Lord Robb, and he only has a wooden sword._

Genna chuckled and lunged forward again. Raising his arms high and out of the way, Barristan jumped to the side and wrapped his left arm around her. “Enough now. There are rules to this, and you don’t know a single one.”

“You’re cheating! I don’t see you picking up your sworn brothers during a match.” Genna dropped the sword and tried to push off Barristan’s arm, but he walked her towards the side of the yards with ease. Brienne giggled at the sight of Genna flailing about and trying to shake him off, but Barristan was much too strong for her. Despite her protests, Genna was chuckling and Barristan was smirking.

“Well that’s because I trust them not to take off a limb; either their own or mine.”

At their approach, Jaime scolded Genna as though he was the adult. “You just took off with the person I’m meant to be guarding and I couldn’t find you. Now you’re acting like a child in the yards.”

“Oh hush, Jaime. I was defending your honor! This man insulted you.” Genna straightened her skirts and raised a challenging brow at Barristan.

“I did no such thing!” 

Mischief brewed in Brienne as she watched them bicker. “You said that I’m tougher than Ser Jaime.”

An amused laugh pushed Jaime’s lips. Before he could reply, Barristan corrected the information. “No… I said that you are tougher than the queen’s nephew, though I did not specify _which_ nephew.”

Jaime unsheathed his sword and titled his head cockily. 

_Oh dear. He always thinks he can win. He never beats Ser Barristan or Ser Arthur; only the other knights._

“Very well. House Lannister against House Selmy.” Jaime walked onto the field and picked up Brienne’s sword. Extending his arm towards Genna, he smirked and raised a brow.

Genna tapped Barristan’s stomach as she walked by. “That’s the spirit, Jaime. Lions are much more deadly together.”

* * *

“She said _what_!?” Brienne watched as her father nearly choked on his food. His eyes went wide as he glanced desperately between Brienne and Genna.

Genna had just finished recounting the situation from earlier that day. With every word she spoke, Brienne had watched as her father paled more and more. He seemed pained as he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a steadying breath. 

Abruptly, Selwyn moved from his seat and crouched before Brienne. He took her hands and pulled her chair close. “Brienne, sweetling, what that woman said is awful and _wrong._ How long has she been telling you that filth?”

In truth, Brienne didn’t know when it began. The words were presented as lessons and not personal opinions. Brienne was uncertain how to disentangle it all. 

“I don’t know. She always says those things, but it didn’t seem wrong. A lot of people think the same.”

Selwyn’s jaw dropped at the words. “Who?”

“Well, Allana said I was ugly too. I don’t much think the other children here like me.”

Selwyn pulled Brienne from the chair and into his arms. “Oh gods, Brienne. I’m sorry. This is my fault for not seeing it sooner. Do you hear me? This is not your fault. Those miserable shits are to be ignored.”

Brienne nodded against her father’s chest. It always felt wonderful to be held by him. The sensation was like being covered in a warm blanket on a cold night. She wondered if her mother held her like that before she died.

When Selwyn broke the embrace, he pulled Brienne onto his lap where he previously sat. He took several steadying breaths and tapped the table in frustration. “Genna… is it inappropriate for me to visit the cells?” His voice sounded strained and there was a tense set to his jaw.

With a heavy sigh, Genna nodded. “Sadly, it would be inappropriate.”

“What if I sent one of the Kingsguard to check on her, but she was found _difficult_ and needed a puncture wound or two?” 

At her father’s words, Genna huffed a small laugh. “I have some thoughts on an appropriate approach which will send a clear message to _everyone._ ”

The next day, Brienne was playing in her room with Arthur and Brynden when a knock came. Genna had agreed to act as a Septa might, giving lessons and nurturing, until they could find a permanent replacement after exhaustive vetting. That morning, Genna was occupied in a meeting with the High Septon and Selwyn, so Brienne was left in the care of two Kingsguard.

Brynden and Arthur had been great fun. Both men schooled her on some of the more intricate detailings of weapons. They explained why weapons were forged a certain way, and the best way to accommodate a weapon’s failing or break in a match or battle.

Then her father and Genna entered the room. Crouching before her, Selwyn explained what was to happen.

“We’re going to go outside now with the High Septon. He is going to explain some things before the people, and Septa Roelle is to be punished.” As they stood to leave, Brienne noticed the giddy expression on Arthur’s face. They neared the castle door, and Arthur halted Brienne’s progress. 

“Come on, Little Flower. You need this.” Arthur tucked a flower behind Brienne’s ear and smiled warmly. “You’re to stay with me now. Some parts of this your father doesn’t wish for you to see.”

They stepped outside and made their way to the steps that descended towards the city. A large crowd had assembled, and Gold Cloaks lined the sides to prevent the crowd from becoming unruly. The High Septon stood beside Ser Barristan with a chained Septa Roelle at his side. The small council stood off to the side, and the rest of the Kingsguard was to the right. 

Selwyn went to stand beside the High Septon while Genna, Arthur, and Brynden guided Brienne to the right and towards the rest of the Kingsguard. Bending down, Arthur picked up Brienne and his facial features set into a stern line. While Arthur was a fun knight to be around, he was very serious and formal where it concerned training, battle, court, and public presentation such as this.

The High Septon raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “A sinner comes before you, Roelle, a former sister of the Faith of the Seven; Septa to Princess Brienne. She has turned her back on the Faith by abused a child; our princess and future queen. She has confessed her sins, and begged for forgiveness. The Faith nor the crown condone insult and abuse in any form where it concerns the princess, or any young child. Ordinarily, we reserve the act of repentance through a walk of atonement for crimes of adultery or prostitution, but today, we will use it as an act of repentance for the abuse of an innocent. The Faith has stripped Roelle of her title and association with the Faith to prevent further harm to other innocents. She will cast aside pride and artifice to present herself as the gods made her. She comes before you with a solemn heart, shorn of secrets, naked before the eyes of gods and men, to make her walk of atonement.”

At the words, another woman of the Faith stepped forward with a set of sheers. The woman removed Roelle’s head covering and cut away her sandy-brown locks. Tears welled in Roelle’s eyes with every strand of hair removed. Barristan removed the chains and walked towards the rest of the Kingsguard. Standing near the High Septon, Selwyn leaned over and whispered something to Roelle; his face was the picture of rage, and Brienne’s eyes went wide at the sight. Afterwards, Selwyn joined the Kingsguard and Genna near Brienne.

Arthur whispered into her ear as the woman who cut Roelle’s hair began to cut away her clothing. “Avert your eyes little one. This won’t be pretty.”

Shifting Brienne in his arms, Arthur held Brienne so that she could look over his shoulder. Brynden and Jon stood at Arthur’s back and both made faces to distract her from whatever was going on with Roelle. 

Groans of disgust rippled through the Kingsguard, and Jon grimaced when his eyes darted forward. “Oh gods. That’ll make any man shrivel up.”

Soon, a bell began ringing, and the shout of “shame” lifted into the air. It was the only sound that Brienne heard before the jeering began in the city below. The bell and call of “shame” faded into the distance. Calls from the crowd lifted into the air; ‘gross’, ‘ugly bitch’, ‘for the princess’, and ‘child abuser’. 

Arthur began laughing as he kept Brienne pressed close. His chest rumbled and shook Brienne’s body as he leaned to his right and spoke to Jaime. “Did you see that? A cabbage to the face. This is glorious. We should have brought something to throw.”

Jaime’s snickered in reply. His voice reached Brienne’s ears next. “Ser Jon, Roelle needs a knight in shining armor to save her from the verbal lashing. Go cover that mess with your cloak and sing _Let me Drink Your Beauty_ to make her feel better.”

Jon’s nose scrunched in distaste. “I’m only _technically_ a knight, remember? I’m hardly the chivalrous one. Have Barristan do it.”

“Leave me out of it.” Barristan muttered from where he stood. “My cock will never work again if I have to go near that.”

As the Kingsguard carried on laughing and talking loudly, Brienne’s eyes darted to her father. He laughed in reply to Barristan’s words, but Lady Genna didn’t find the comment amusing. She rolled her eyes and whispered; the words difficult to hear, Brienne could just make them out. “No threatening the crown.”


	22. Cersei III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei receives news from the capital and attends the wedding between Arthur and Lyanna.

Cersei stared at the missive in hand. Her eyes narrowed in rage and her fist crumpled the parchment. Grand Maester Pycelle had informed Tywin that Genna was doing far more than she was meant to. Her behavior threatened Cersei’s plans for power. With Tywin at her side in the small study at the Vale, Cersei considered the information once more as she stared into the flames dancing wildly in the fireplace.

_My lord,_

_Your sister continues to ingratiate herself with the king and realm. Per my last missive, she has required moon tea regularly for nearly two years, and in this last year, she has taken over mothering of Princess Brienne as they search for a new Septa. Now Lady Genna is to lead two projects in the city._

_The king worries that your sister overwhelms herself, but Lady Genna seems as determined as ever. No progress has been made on encouraging a betrothal between Princess Brienne and your son. If anything, a push for consideration of other lords comes at the behest of Lady Genna. She insists that Jaime cannot love the girl, and that Brienne deserves a true match. I must say, she is not a pretty child and grows uglier by the year._

_After Ser Arthur’s wedding to Lady Lyanna, I believe the king is considering a ball on Princess Brienne’s tenth nameday to welcome young lords to court._

_Yours_

_Grand Maseter Pycelle_

  
  


Cersei grumbled at the words put to parchment. At her side, Tywin spoke sternly. “When you arrive in the city for the wedding, I want you to speak with your brother. Impress upon him the importance of this match. I’ve wasted four years hoping this betrothal would happen and lead to a Lannister sitting on the throne. Now Genna may be past her childbearing years. We will lose _everything_.”

Tywin had come to the Vale to speak with Lord Arryn about economic matters. Under Littlefinger’s efforts, the Vale was thriving and stood poised to pass even the Reach in way of financial resources. Considering Tywin’s words, Cersei panicked as she considered her aunt’s proclivities with the king. Cersei could not risk another heir with claim.

“I’ll speak with Jaime. The betrothal will happen. I’ll be certain of it. Perhaps if you take action with Tyrion, Jaime might be _encouraged_. No true harm, of course; just enough to move Jaime. Rumors from the city indicate that the king considers Jaime of the highest quality, and I’m certain it is only the princess’s ugliness holding Jaime back.”

Cersei considered her options. She needed a way to obtain more information within the Red Keep. While Tywin had Grand Maester Pycelle, the man was old and bumbling. Cersei needed someone more cunning and eager to achieve the same objective as herself. She had been plotting a way to get rid of Edmure Tully and convince Lord Hoster to wed Lysa to Petyr, but now she considered another use for the man.

_Compassion. I’ll play at kindness for my aunt, and get Littlefinger into the Keep._

Later that night, Cersei was certain to get Jon in an agreeable state. Like Jaime, Jon was a man easy enough to control. It took little more than whispered love and soft lips. When they lay together in bed, Cersei pushed onto her elbow.

“My father brought word from King’s Landing. I’m worried about my aunt.”

Jon’s brows furrowed at the words. “The queen? What’s wrong?”

Cersei sighed and feigned at pity. “Did I ever tell you that she practically raised me when my mother died? A sweet woman who has endured much loss in her own life. She feels the need to care for everyone, but at risk of her own health. Now in addition to being queen, Master of Coin, mothering the Princess Brienne, she is to lead _two_ projects in the city.”

Jon’s eyes went wide at the words. “She’ll exhaust herself. The poor woman. Perhaps she needs to let something go.”

Feigning sorrow, Cersei met Jon’s eyes. “It’s selfish of me really. I don’t want to lose Petyr; he has helped us immensely, but… he would make for a perfect Master of Coin. My aunt needs to lighten her load, and I think that the crown could thrive with his aid just as the Vale now finds itself wealthy beyond measure.”

“Yes, I think you’ve the right of it. I’ll encourage the appointment when we’re in the city for the wedding. Lets bring Petyr with us. He’s a good young man, and it is time that his skills get put to better use than just aiding the Vale.”

_My sentiments exactly._

* * *

It was midway through 288ac. The wedding was a dull affair filled with love and choice; two things that Cersei had never been afforded. Since her arrival at the Red Keep, Cersei had noticed a change in Jaime. He seemed happy and distracted. Where his eyes would search for Cersei in years past, Jaime was instead enjoying time around the king and Kingsguard. 

Cersei watched with growing disdain as Selwyn draped his arm over Jaime’s shoulders and spoke in praise of him to anyone who would listen. It was clear that Selwyn favored Jaime among his Kingsguard. 

_A son he longs for given his loss. He’ll not have my brother._

Of course, Selwyn had not been the only person who Jaime spent time with. He and Arthur were making proper fools of themselves at the feast. The pair danced and drank; sang off pitch and japed loudly with other guests. It was a pitiful display and entirely unbecoming of a Lannister. 

The other sworn brothers, Lyanna, and the guests seemed amused by their antics. Only the Lord Commander rolled his eyes and shook his head, but still, there was amusement on his features easily identified. Then there was the matter of the ugly princess.

Brienne laughed and played as though she belonged there. The sworn brothers seemed to adore her, and they involved her in the festivities. When not dancing and laughing with the knights, Brienne was watching over the younger children; Robb, Lyarra, Jasper, Daenerys and Sansa. The only time she left them alone was to sit with Rhaenys. 

Both Rhaenys and Daenerys were brought with the rest of House Martell to celebrate their beloved Dronish knight’s wedding to Lady Lyanna. Further, they had spent two days prior to the wedding meeting with the king to discuss matters of their kingdom. Following their combined efforts to thwart the rebelling Dornishmen attacking the West, the crown and Dorne were on more favorable terms than under House Targaryen. 

Through the festivities, Viserys kept his distance. The young boy looked as miserable as Cersei felt. They exchanged knowing glances throughout the night, and Cersei prayed the feast would end soon. She cringed every time the ugly princess touched her son. To Cersei, the girl appeared more beast than child, and Brienne’s presence felt an insult. 

_I should be calling my child ‘prince’. That one is a little monster like Tyrion; not fit for a crown nor title._

Cersei sat back and watched the festivities unfold. As always, Jon was with Ned for much of the night. The pair smiled warmly and discussed a number of topics. Then Cersei caught wind of a conversation that caused a swirl of emotions within her. 

Jon patted Ned’s arm and nodded. “Yes, I think they’d make a fine match indeed. They play so well together, and I’m glad that Lyanna feels the same way.”

A wide smile stretched across Ned’s face. “It has many advantages in truth. A way to unite the Stormlands and the Vale.”

Leaning forward, Cersei raised a brow. “I’m sorry? What match?”

Jon rubbed Cersei’s back and smiled warmly. The touch made Cersei shiver with disgust, and she had to resist the urge to recoil. “Jasper and Lyarra. We’ll unite House Arryn and House Baratheon. The children they eventually have will lead the Eyrie and Storm’s End. They’re quite young of course, but in eight years they’ll be three-and-ten. If they stay friendly with one another as they are now, it is a strong match, and I’m pleased to make it.”

Cersei wanted to rage. Her son was far too good for Lyanna’s child by that beastly man, Robert. “Three-and-ten is far too young for such things.”

“Your aunt married at two-and-ten. Many noble marriages begin at such a young age in fact. Further, I wish to have some influence while I’m still alive. We can help guide them in the art of ruling. Of course, we’ll honor the agreement with the Stormlands. Their firstborn son will take the name Baratheon and lead there.”

Cersei didn’t want to hear of it. The thought infuriated her. They sought to wed her son off to some unworthy girl. A girl who looked far too Stark and Bartheon for Cersei’s taste. She wanted her son to wed someone beautiful and powerful, or no one at all.

Jon and Ned continued speaking, but Cersei could hear no more of it. She stared at Jasper and Lyarra playing together and running between the tables. The glee on their faces made Cersei’s stomach turn. The conduct was not befitting a Lannister, and it certainly was not what Cersei wanted for her son. 

A loud laugh from across the hall caught Cersei’s attention. As the revelers grew rowdier from drink and mirth, the distinctive laugh of Genna cut through the air. Cersei’s eyes narrowed at her aunt. Genna’s face was red from laughter. Her lips were pulled into a wide smile and her eyes sparkled with happiness. Cersei hated it. 

Cersei hated that her aunt was happy when she was meant to be miserable. Like Cersie, Genna had been used as little more than a cyvasse piece for the second time in her worthless life. Genna was forced to wed the king; a massive man with seemingly little regard for propriety and station. Like Cersei, Genna was meant to find no joy in her political marriage.

Instead, her aunt stood laughing and smiling. She was gaining power and respect; the things Cersei coveted most. From Grand Maester Pycelle’s report, Genna had found love with Selwyn. At least that is what Cersei had assumed. Cersei’s narrowed eyes quickly widened when she saw how close Genna stood to the Lord Commander. With a cup of wine in one hand, Genna’s free hand made light contact with the knight’s arm and side. Then Cersei saw it.

At one point during the private conversation, their eyes gave away the game. _They’re in love. She isn’t bedding the king; she’s bedding his Lord Commander._

Cersei became giddy at the thought of what this information could bring her. For the next hour, she watched them closely. Even when they broke apart to maintain decorum and play at indifference, their eyes wandered back to one another. Cersei knew the look, because her twin had looked upon her the same way for much of his life. 

Jaime had always sought out Cersei in a room just as Genna and Barristan looked for one another at the feast. Jaime’s eyes had always lingered too long and his passing touch left trails speaking to hidden trysts and stolen moments. It was like watching herself and Jaime, except the older pair seemed equally invested. 

An idea came to mind, and having Littlefinger in the capital would see it done. Knowing that her aunt was not bedding the king, her infidelity would be obvious if she were to fall pregnant. Selwyn would rage, and it would cause a rift. Her aunt and Barristan would lose their heads. 

Judging by how the sworn brothers adored their Lord Commander, Jaime in particular, it would enable movement against the king. Jaime would seek justice for his aunt and sworn brother. Just as Jaime had a weakness for their little monster of a brother, he had a weakness for Genna. It disgusted Cersei. For Genna and his Lord Commander, Jaime would commit another kingslaying that would pave the way for Cersei to take the throne with Viserys. 

Even if Jaime failed her, Tywin would rage. He would have little tolerance for the king either taking his sister’s head, or casting her and her bastard aside. Tywin would stop at nothing to save face. Never would he allow such an exposing scandal to sully their House name. He would wage war. 

_I’ll wipe that satisfied smile off my aunt’s face. I’ll clear the path for me to take power through Viserys. I’ll cause a scandal so grand that Aerys will seem tame in comparison. All I need do is have Littlefinger work his magic. We’ll have her moon tea tampered with. I certainly hope she isn’t barren._

When Genna eventually left the feast claiming fatigue, and Barristan offered to escort her to her room, Cersei nearly fell off her chair from laughter. _Gods. They’re pathetic and far too obvious. This has turned out to be the best wedding feast that I’ve ever attended._

Feeling a mounting victory swell within, Cersei allowed herself to indulge on wine. Sips turned into gulps. A cup turned into a jug. Then Cersei’s eyes landed on the ugly princess. The girl’s hands were on Jasper once more as she tried to encourage the young boy to the dance. 

_How dare she touch the little prince. Miserable, ugly, little shit._

Cersei stood and walked towards her son. Crouching down to Jasper, Cersei tugged him close. “Jasper, my love. You don’t need to play with them.”

“I want to, Mommy. Princess Brienne is showing us the dance.”

Cersei’s eyes appraised the princess who smiled widely. Her lips were too thick; her teeth crooked and protruding. “Hello, Lady Cersei. I was just showing Jasper the…”

“Aren’t there children your own age to be playing with? You’re quite large. What are you? Two-and-ten?” Cersei interrupted Brienne and considered at her with narrowed eyes.

Brienne offered a small smile in return. “I’m eight, my lady.”

Cersei feigned surprise at the words. She clutched her chest and gasped. “Oh my. So _massive_. You must be a fright to the other children your age.”

The prior confidence and mirth faded from the young girl as she began to fidget with her hands. “My height helps in the training yards. The knights say…”

“The training yards!? Do you fancy yourself more prince than princess? I suppose you do look the part. Do you wish to marry a handsome knight someday or _be_ a knight?”

Uncertainty played out in the girl’s eyes. She glanced around nervously, but the feast was loud and crowded. The other children danced at her back, and the adults carried on in their various conversations; everyone unaware of the interaction between Cersei, Jasper, and Brienne.

Something shifted in the girl’s features and she muttered to herself. The behavior irked Cersei. “Well? Speak up.”

Brienne lifted her head and stared defiantly at Cersei. “I wish to be both. Lady Genna says that I can be a lady and a warrior.”

“Lady Genna says that, does she? Do you know that she is my aunt? She tells me many things, but I have never heard her say such things about you. I have heard that you father can’t make you a match though. No one wants you. Perhaps it is because you think yourself a prince more than a princess.” Cersei held Jasper close as he shifted in her arms. The young boy tried to protest when he saw his friend’s face fall, but Cersei would hear none of it.

Brienne shook her head in refute. “No. Lady Genna says that someone will want me. I just need to find that one person.”

Laughter pushed past Cersei’s lips and she offered a look of contrived pity. “Do you think that you’ll get to choose? Women don’t get that option. I certainly didn't. My aunt didn’t. You’ll be given a match desperate enough for the crown and he’ll…”

“Cersei.” A stern voice called out at her back. The timber of Jaime’s voice shook Cersei where she was crouched. Glancing over her shoulder, Cersei noted the warning on Jaime’s face.

“What nonsense are you telling the princess?” 

Cersei stood and feigned innocence. “I’m just having a conversation with her, Jaime.”

“She appears upset to me.” Jaime’s eyes darted from Cersei and to Brienne. The young girl stood rooted in place and glanced between the twins.

“There’s no need to be so dramatic, Jaime. She was playing with Jasper and I came over to say hello. I’m merely surprised she isn’t playing with children closer to her age like Viserys.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed in question. “He has just as many years on the princess as she has on Jasper. Leave her be.”

A huff of laughter pushed past Cersei’s lips. She appraised her brother before meeting his eyes once more. Running her tongue over her lips, she spoke challengingly. “I’m surprised you took the time to notice given what a fool you’ve been acting like all evening. Father would not be impressed.”

“Father isn’t here, and I hardly think his opinion matters more than the king.” There was a warning in Jaime’s tone, and Cersei didn’t care for it. Seeking to regain control of the situation, Cersei smiled sweetly and placed a warm hand on Jaime’s chest.

“Lets not fight, brother. I’m not here long, and I’ve missed you dearly.” Cersei let her eyes drag down Jaime’s body to emphasize her point. Swallowing thickly, Jaime faltered and Cersei felt victory swell within. “Dance with me brother?”

Jaime struggled at the request. It was a foreign reaction compared to what Cersie was accustomed to whenever she offered Jaime morsels of affection. Before he replied Jaime glanced between Jasper and Brienne. 

“Go on, Jasper. Your mother didn’t realize how much fun you were having with the princess and other children.” 

_He has grown too close to House Tarth. He’ll not do what I ask of him. I need to be careful with him now._

When Brienne took Jasper by the hand and led him towards the group of children, Cersei swallowed the bile rising in her throat at the sight of such an ugly girl touching her precious son. 

“You’re much changed brother. Do you forget me so easily” Cersei tilted her head in question and tried to gauge where her twin was. He had always been easy to read, but the last two encounters left her questioning things. 

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “I’m not changed. It seems you are. I don’t know what game you’re playing, Cersei, but the king and his daughter are good people. Leave them be. I see that Lord Viserys is quite well. I thought you meant to deal with that.”

_He doesn’t trust me._

“And as you can see, we are still watched.” Cersei subtly tilted her head towards Jon. “His time will come, and I can deal with larger issues at hand.”

Jaime stepped closer and looked down his nose at Cersei. “Good, because if you don’t, I will. Get him under control. He has been eye-fucking the serving maid all night.”

Without another word, Jaime left Cersei standing alone. Her head turned and she noted Viserys eyeing the girl refilling his cup of water. His eyes were full of mischief as he appraised the girl, and Cersei felt a slight unease set in at the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two chapters have had time jumps of 2 years. Upcoming chapters will have similar jumps as I try to move towards an older Brienne and older Jaime.


	23. Jaime VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime enjoys Arthur's wedding, has a revealing conversation with Cersei, and learns some interesting things.

Jaime laughed loudly at Jon’s side. They each had an arm slung over one another’s shoulders as they walked towards the White Sword Tower laughing loudly. The wedding had been much more enjoyable than Jaime expected. Since the wedding was for a Kingsguard, and the first in its history, Selwyn gave them all the night off to enjoy the feast. He brought in trusted Gold Cloaks to watch over the event and allow the sworn brothers an opportunity to celebrate.

Jaime had spent much of the feast with Arthur, Jon, Brynden, and Barristan. At one point, they even convinced Arys and Lyn to dance with them. 

The seven Kingsguard had formed a circle with arms draped over the man at each side, singing and swaying. They sang ribald songs and laughed loudly. It was certainly a spectacle for all to see, but Jaime cared little for how it appeared. 

With the sworn brothers, Jaime had found home. Acceptance and respect from his fellow knights was something he never thought to achieve while suffering through Aerys, but now Jaime couldn’t have been more content. Enjoying the feast with his sworn brothers was the most fun he had in years. 

Before Arthur escorted Lyanna from the hall to _officially_ consummate their union, he had pulled Barristan, Jaime, and Jon into a firm hug. The entire Kingsguard had grown close over the years, but nothing compared to the time with the original four. 

They had shared experiences under Aerys that their new brothers could never begin to comprehend. Together they had sorted through the emotional damage of serving a madman, and they had come out better for it. It was that fact that enraged Jaime when he spoke to Cersei. 

For most of the night, Jaime forgot that Cersei was even present. When at last Jaime had a moment with Cersei at the feast, things felt different. After catching her being cruel to the princess, Jaime was enraged that her first words were to accuse him of being frivolous. 

_Yes, gods forbid I enjoy my life. A life that she designed for me. I gave up my claim to the Rock and vowed to a life without love, for what? She is still wed to Jon, and Viserys is somehow still alive. She doesn’t look quite so despairing as she did when I last saw her in the godswood._

Now as Jaime and Jon made their way back to the White Sword Tower, a voice called out in the darkness. “Brother. Are you truly not going to spend time with me?”

Jaime stopped walking with his arm still slung over Jon’s shoulders. “What?” His eyes narrowed in search as Cersei walked through the shadows. The torchlight kissed her golden hair and caused it to glow; the sight reminding Jaime of the moon’s reflection on calm seas.

“You’ve not afforded time to me or Jasper since we arrived yesterday, and you spent the entire feast with your sworn brothers.” The words held an accusatory edge that rankled Jaime. Just as she had during the feast, Cersei’s words aimed for reprimand at Jaime’s happiness.

With a heavy sigh, Jaime glanced at Jon and rolled his eyes. “House Lannister. Very demanding.”

Jon’s shoulders shook as he laughed quietly. “Yes, I know her Grace. Are we inviting ourselves to Ser Barristan’s room for games later?”

Jaime snorted and nodded emphatically. “It is our duty to ensure the Lord Commander is properly entertained this evening. I’ll meet you there?”

Nodding in agreement, Jon continued along the pathway towards the White Sword Tower. He whistled a tune as he went and the cover of night soon blanketed him. Jaime was left standing before Cersei. For a moment, neither spoke. They stood staring at one another as the stars danced above. Then Cersei looped her arm around Jaime’s. “Walk with me.”

They walked towards the gardens in silence as Jaime stared ahead. Cersei’s honeyed tones filled the night air at his side. “Tell me of the king. Is he decent?”

It was the first time that Cersei asked about the man rather than made demands for his demise. Jaime pursed his lips and nodded before giving reply. “He is an excellent king. A vast improvement from Aerys.”

Cersei hummed in consideration. As Jaime glanced at her, he saw something dark flash across her face. Her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, leaving a small mound of soft, golden flesh jutting outwards.

“Have you forgotten your words to me from years ago? You promised to wait for me.”

Jaime sighed and stopped walking. “And what am I waiting for exactly?”

The words were born of frustration and doubt. Jaime was beginning to feel a proper fool over Cersei’s requests which never seemed to yield more than a quick fuck and whispered promises.

Cersei raised a brow in question. A small huff of laughter pushed from her lips. “For me. For us. When Jon dies…”

“Father will wed you to someone else. We both know as much.” Jaime had given the matter much thought of late. 

In the weeks preceding Arthur’s wedding, Jaime considered what his own life might look like. He held out a small hope that Selwyn may allow a union between Jaime and Cersei where the faith would not, but unless their father was dead, Jaime did not see such a thing coming to pass. If they wished to be together, they would need to flee. Essos perhaps. 

Cersei shrugged lightly as though the matter inconsequential. “I’ll refuse him.”

A bitter laugh pushed past Jaime’s lips. “As you refused to wed Jon? No, somehow I don’t see that happening.”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “And you? What will you do now that all of the kingdoms know of the Kingsguard’s ability to wed thanks to that vacuous Dornishman?” 

The insult to Arthur was a step too far. Jaime’s sworn brothers, Genna, and Selwyn had been there for Jaime in ways that Cersei cared little to ask about or concern herself with. Removing Cersei’s hand from his arm, Jaime scowled at his twin. 

“First you insult the princess, and now you insult my friend.”

“Your friend? Oh, please. You truly think you’ve built a little family here? They don’t care about you. No one here does. We are what matters; only us. Come, brother. I’ll prove it to you.”

Cersei smiled seductively and ran a hand down Jaime’s chest. In years past, Jaime would have dragged her into a concealed location and taken her without second thought. That night, he couldn’t. 

Jaime couldn’t get past Cersei’s seeming disregard for his well-being in recent years. She had ample opportunity to ask after him or to write, but nothing came. Then she demanded dishonorable things of him. She wished for the king and his daughter dead. She insulted them, and Jaime’s sworn brothers. Everything felt wrong, and despite his longing for Cersei, he couldn’t abide by her blatant disregard of his feelings, honor, and needs. 

Pushing her hand off his chest, Jaime shook his head in refute. “You said that I’m much changed, sister? It seems that you are.”

Jaime pushed past Cersei to return to the White Sword Tower. Before he could take more than one step away, Cersei’s fingers curled around his wrist. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime pulled his wrist away, but Cersei stepped forward and grabbed his face. “I can’t do this without you. I _need_ you, Jaime. You promised to wait for me.”

_Need or want?_

“Have I not waited long enough? I can have the king release me from my vows on the morrow. Flee with me to Essos?”

It was a test. If Cersei agreed, Jaime would happily turn in his cloak and board the first whip with Jaime and Jasper. The boy would be treated as his own, and quickly given siblings. If she disagreed, Jaime knew the answer to his unasked question. _Me or the crown?_

Cersei offered Jaime a withering look. “Don’t be a fool, Jaime. We both know that isn’t possible. I need more time.”

“Then you will have an abundance of it. Goodnight, Cersei.” Without awaiting reply, Jaime stomped towards the White Sword Tower. He muttered under his breath and cursed the gods for bestowing upon him the capacity to love someone as selfish as Cersei. It felt cruel and unfair. Memories of overhearing tales of Barristan’s unrequited love interests flooded Jaime’s mind. 

_The gods are cruel. Barristan and I could love a woman fiercely, but we’re not allowed the chance. The ones we love are unattainable, either of their own volition or through society’s cruelties._

When Jaime entered the White Sword Tower, he immediately made his way up the stairs to the fourth floor. The door to Barristan’s room was open, and Jon was alone inside. “Where is Barristan?”

Jon shrugged and yawned at the table. “Hells if I know. Guard duty perhaps? Didn’t your aunt wish to leave before the king?”

Jaime sighed and dropped into a vacant chair. “The feast was near over when we left. I’m certain he’ll be back shortly when the Gold Cloaks takeover.” 

The two men spoke for some time, and not long after, Barristan entered the room. He startled at the sight of them. “What are you doing here?”

“What were you _not_ doing here?” Jon raised a challenging brow. “We’ve the night off and your room is much larger than ours for games. I brought dice.”

Jon pushed the dice to the center of the table and stared expectantly at Barristan. The Lord Commander’s eyes darted around with uncertainty, but he eventually sighed and moved towards the table. “I hate dice. It’s boring. Lets play the guessing game.”

When Barristan sat, Jaime caught a whiff of something unmistakably Genna. She had a penchant for perfumes from across the Narrow Sea. Most days, she wore a light fragrance that Jaime only noticed in passing, but during grand events such as a wedding feast, she wore her favorite; a spiceflower perfume. It had a floral scent with a hint of cinnamon. The perfume was quite expensive and nearly impossible to procure in Westeros. When Tyget and Gerion had come of age, they toured Essos, and brought back bottles of it for Genna. 

_Oh my gods. Did he…_

“Jon, I forgot to ask. Did you get the wine?” Jaime turned his attention to Jon. The older knight slumped and tilted his head. 

“Did _you_? I don’t even drink anymore. Why must I always procure wine for the pair of you?”

Barristan yawned and leaned onto the table with his elbows. “I don’t need any more wine. I’m tired.”

_Yes, I bet you are._

Jaime sniffed and leaned towards Barristan. “Are you certain? I could use a cup. Perhaps it’s the air in here, but I smell hints of cinnamon and for some reason, it makes me wish for a cup of rich, arbor red. There is something about that varietal. Very _crimson_ . Distinctly _Lannister_.”

Leaning towards Barristan, Jaime inhaled deeply. “ _Definitely_ Lannister.”

At the comment, Barristan leaned back and looked uneasily at Jaime. A subtle yet knowing smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. He watched as Barristan’s lips parted in question before speaking. 

From across the table, Jon snorted. “You’re such a dolt, Jaime. Arbor Red is not of the West. Gods you people are so arrogant and think that anything of high quality must be of the Westerlands. You do know where Arbor is, don’t you?”

“I’ll have some wine.” Barristan’s face had paled slightly and his eyes darted to Jon. 

“Oh fuck me! The pair of you are beyond obnoxious. We’re playing dice if I get the wine. I’m not playing that stuipd game just for Barristan to make me a bloody eunuch or court fool.”

As Jon left and shut the door, Barristan narrowed his eyes and leaned close. “I don’t know what games you’re playing, but stop it.” 

“Me? What? I’m just thirsty, Ser Barristan. I must say though, you smell very pretty. It’s making my head spin.”

Jaime waggled his brows, but Barristan did not share in his mirth. “I smell as I always do. Stop sniffing me.”

“But why? You smell so good and it reminds of home in a way. Strange considering my aunt’s spiceflower perfume is from Essos. When I was a boy and she was getting all done up for the visiting lords and knights, the scent burned my nostrils with how much she used to apply. I could always tell what room she went into, and when she left.”

Jaime sucked in his lower lip to keep from laughing. Swallowing thickly, Barristan glanced away and fidgeted with the sleeve of his jerkin. “I think she spilled it in her room. The hallway stunk of it.”

Jaime guffawed and threw back his head. “You’re a shit liar.”

“I am not lying.” Barristan growled the words, but it only served to encourage Jaime.

“Better the smell of that than _other_ things.” Taking pause to let the implication sink in, Jaime leaned closer and whispered. “I know of her arrangement with the king. I’m the only other one who knows. I’d never say anything.”

Barristan stiffened at the words; his arms crossed protectively over his chest as though guarding a secret capable of swallowing him whole. “I don’t know what you’re on about. Now leave me be.”

Jaime leaned back and sighed. When his next words came out, they were quiet and sincere. “I just want her happy. She has sacrificed more for me than I deserve.”

* * *

Jaime walked into his aunt’s bedchamber and smiled as she turned to face him. “ _Your Grace._ ”

Genna groaned in distaste and waved him off. “Let me guess, I’m the last to arrive?”

“You’ll make an entrance as always.” Jaime smirked as he watched his aunt apply a small touch of perfume to her neck and wrists.

The Stormlands vassals had attended Lyanna’s wedding the day prior, and today, they were meeting with the king. It was an informal reception to express his gratitude for their support over the years, and Genna was late.

Walking towards Genna, Jaime lifted the perfume bottle and inhaled deeply. “Spiceflower perfume. Just as I remember it at the Rock... and your wedding to the king… and on my Lord Commander’s skin last night.”

At the last comment, Genna flinched. “Excuse me!?”

Genna’s head snapped to Jaime. The expression on her face was a combination of shock, fear, and unease. 

Jaime raised a knowing brow and reached for his aunt’s arm. Giving it a gentle squeeze, Jaime smiled softly. “I would never say anything. I told him as much, but he denied it as though the very admission meant death.”

“And in the eyes of the kingdoms, it would! You shouldn’t say such things!” Genna turned away, but the heat at the back of her neck was admission enough. 

With a heavy sigh, Jaime grabbed Genna’s shoulder. His fingers curled in to pull her back to face him, but she wouldn’t budge. “I know what you did for me, and I wish I was as selfless. I wish that you could truly call him yours. I want to see you happy. Both of you.”

Genna sighed heavily and turned to face Jaime. “Did anyone else notice the smell?”

A loud snort filled the room in reply. “Do many other knights or noblemen know the unique perfume that Uncle Gerion and Uncle Tyget brought back for you? Did any of them trail after you in youth and find themselves downwind of the scent?”

Shy laughter burst from Genna’s lips and for a moment, she looked thirty years younger like a maiden caught stealing her first kiss. “Gods. I never even considered that. I don’t wear it all the time or even in such a strong application. He must have been mortified. You can’t imagine how much reassurance it took from me and Sel when it first started. He was ready to throw himself from the top of the Wall.”

Jaime smiled at the words. It would like Barristan to react in such a way to an arrangement the couple in question happily urged him into. “How long?”

“Two years.” The reply was spoken absently, but it took Jaime’s breath away.

“Two years!? Seven hells. Now I feel like a dolt for not having noticed sooner.” Jaime ran a hand through his hair and chuckled to himself. _Gods. Either they’re incredible at games of secrecy, or I’m oblivious. Perhaps both._

“Yes, though the first moon turn felt more like a game of chase. Barristan was like a frightened little boy trying to run every time we were in a room alone. He felt very guilty about it; like a failure.”

The words surprised Jaime. “A failure? Could he not figure out where to put it.” Laughter shook Jaime’s chest and he was hardly surprised by the hard swat that greeted him. 

“Trust me, that is hardly the problem. He still harbors guilt and shame over killing his king alongside you. Not the act itself of course, but the broken oath. He also hates that he didn’t do it sooner and spare you the ordeal. Then there’s the matter of _this_ . He thinks himself guilty of kingslaying _and_ treason. Sleeping with the queen was never on his list of things to do.”

Jaime huffed a small laugh; his voice held a teasing edge as he met Genna’s eyes. “Well I certainly could never bring myself to cuckold a king, but that’s because I’m very honorable.” 

“Oh hush up! You’re terribly annoying, Jaime.” Genna’s finger poked into Jaime’s chest. The sensation elicited a wince from Jaime, but he was soon smiling again at his aunt’s scowl.

“You even sound like him now too. The Aunt Genna that I grew up with would have told me to ‘fuck off’. ‘Hush up’ is a most Barristan expression.” Jaime couldn’t help but needle his aunt. It was rare that he had the upperhand in anything, and he wouldn’t let this opportunity go.

Genna’s eyes narrowed, but she offered little more than a grumble and reached for Jaime’s arm. “Walk me to the hall. I suppose I must mingle.”

As they stepped towards the door, Genna spoke softly. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

The request was surprising to hear and felt like being thrown into cold water. Stopping their progress to the door, Jaime stared into Genna’s eyes and removed any jest from his tone. “I would kill anyone who tried to use the information or your love to harm either of you. _Anyone_ .” _Cersei included_. 

For as much as Jaime wanted to stop loving Cersei, it was proving difficult. Despite that, he could not abide by her or anyone else trying to harm Genna and Barristan. At Jaime’s inflection on the word ‘anyone’, Genna offered the look that indicated her awareness for who ‘anyone’ meant.

“I would never ask you to kill anyone for me, Jaime.”

_Therein lies the difference. I don’t know my own twin any longer; that she would ask such things of me hurts._

Taking a deep breath, Jaime shook his head. “Were it not for you, I am not certain that I would be alive. It’s a debt that I can never repay. As to Ser Barristan… he was the only one that tried to support me when things were at their worst with Aerys. He helped me, and not just with the slaying of him.”

Genna pulled Jaime close and squeezed him tightly. “Your mother would be so proud of you, Jaime. You’re a fine young man, and I want you to be happy.”

_Why doesn’t Cersei want that for me? Why doesn’t she want it for us as she told me so many years ago?_

They renewed their steps from the room and towards the hall. With his awareness for the truth of Genna and Barristan fresh in his mind, Jaime whispered into her ear. “His Grace wanted Ser Barristan to join since the Stormlands are obsessed with him. Just… be casual about it.”

His tone had a teasing edge that did not go missed by Genna. “Fuck off.”

“Oh good. She’s back. I was worried for a moment.” Jaime smirked and stared ahead as they entered the hall. 

Genna clung tightly to his arm and appraised the room. “Seven hells. I didn’t realize just how many of them there were yesterday.”

Jaime was also surprised by the turnout. They had been so preoccupied celebrating with Arthur and Lyanna, that Jaime had not noticed just how many dignitaries arrived. Further, Jaime considered that his aunt was a bit distracted as well. He hadn’t thought much on it at the time, but now he understood why Barristan offered to escort Genna back to the room.

“Tell me you’re on duty for this. I have little desire to force smiles to this many Stormlanders without a pleasant face to get me through it.” Genna’s words were mumbled at Jaime’s side. In the center of the room, Selwyn was in his element. He had Brienne at his side and an arm around her shoulders. The king’s booming voice carried throughout the hall as he japed with the vassals and listened to their tales.

Jaime sighed and glanced around the room. Lyn and Brynden stood on each side of the hall; both men appraising the loud group of Stormlanders before them. “I’m not. I have overnight duty. Perhaps something you could take advantage of for _visits_.” 

Genna hummed in consideration and continued to glance around the room. Jaime suddenly wished that he had not volunteered to retrieve his aunt from her hiding place. Gatherings at court were something he felt more than capable of enduring, but he despised it. Jaime would prefer an hour in the yards to hosting a group of vassals any day. True to Jaime’s earlier words, Barristan stood just twenty feet from Selwyn and was also surrounded by a group of vassals. 

_Gods. They truly adore him. The pride of the Stormlands indeed._

Guiding Genna to Selwyn’s side, Jaime whispered into her ear. “Do you truly need me for this? I’d rather train with Jon.” _Given Arthur is likely still abed with his new bride._

Lyanna had hosted a similar event the day before the wedding. She had done a wonderful job over the last two years of getting to know the vassals. The Northern lady had done a proper tour of the kingdom and spent ample time with each vassal before spending most of her two years at Storm’s End and overseeing things. Further, the kingdom adored Lyarra. The young girl had many of Robert’s features which helped the vassals accept the young girl as their future liege lady.

Standing near Selwyn and Brienne with Genna still on his arm, Jaime glanced down and noticed the forced smile on Brienne’s face. When Selwyn turned and extended an arm towards Genna to welcome her over, Brienne raised a brow at Jaime. Taking a step backwards as Genna passed, Brienne muttered under her breath.

“Are you here to save me or are you to suffer as well?”

Jaime chuckled and glanced around the room once more before replying. “What’s wrong? Not having fun with your people?”

“I’d rather be training, but Ser Barristan is stuck here too. Ser Brynden is on guard duty and Ser Arthur is somewhere father said isn't my business.”

Jaime smirked and raised a brow. “That he is. I’m not meant to be here, but my aunt insists.”

At the words, Brienne deflated and stepped back forward at her father’s side. She played the part well and the vassals had kind words for her. From the corner of his eyes, Jaime saw a group of noblewomen approach Barristan. The Lord Commander immediately looked uneasy, but he smiled politely and averted his eyes as one of the women began speaking to him. Abruptly, the woman pulled Barristan into a firm embrace.

The woman was roughly of age to Barristan with sandy-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a well-fitted, skyblue dress that reminded Jaime of the southernmost seas. Her right hand remained on Barristan’s elbow after breaking the embrace, while her left hand pointed at the women with her, presumably making introductions. 

“Who is that?” Genna had immediately returned to Jaime’s side. 

“How should I know? Aside from House Estermont, House Swann, and House Penrose, I hardly know most of these people.” 

Many of the visiting vassals were wearing clothing devoid of a sigil. While he had memorized most sigils from across the kingdoms, the Houses of the Stormlands and the Reach had sigils similar enough that it was easy for Jaime to confuse them.

Genna looped her arm around Jaime’s and tugged him forward. He muttered under his breath at her strong pull. “I said be casual.”

“I’m mingling, Jaime. It is the queen’s duty.” Genna’s eyes were locked on the group of women with Barristan. At their approach, Barristan’s eyes went wide and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

_How did I not notice this for two years? They’re pathetic._

“Ser Barristan. Introduce me to these lovely ladies of your kingdom.” Genna smiled sweetly, but Jaime saw it for what it was. The same smile was often put on by Cersei at court. It was sharp and contrived, but the vassals never recognized as much.

Barristan stammered slightly as Genna and Jaime stood shoulder to shoulder donning their courtly Lannister smiles. 

_Suddenly, I am so happy to have joined Genna for this little event. It’s to be slow torture for Barristan._

“This is Lady Esra of House Cole. Next to her is Lady Aislen of House Hasty.” Barristan glanced at the woman who had embraced him and nodded. “My cousin’s wife, Lady Delia. Next to her is…”

_Oh my gods. It’s her. Oh, Barristan. Run._

Before Barristan could continue, Delia corrected him. “His cousin’s _widow_. Regrettably I lost my husband in the war to remove House Targaryen.”

Jaime could feel Genna’s arm tense as it remained around his. She inclined her head and replied politely. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I understand from Ser Barristan that you and your husband were a love match. A rare thing among nobility.”

Barristan’s face reddened at the words and he looked to the floor. He was a man drowning, and Jaime had no raft to offer. Genna’s fingers were a vice grip locked around Jaime’s arm, and her eyes studied Barristan and Delia. It was as though the Stranger himself was considering how best to remove Delia from the room. Jealousy. A most Lannister trait. 

Delia inclined her politely and smiled. “Yes, and I miss my love terribly. Though interestingly enough, Ser Barristan and I had been betrothed first.”

One of the women in the group who had not yet been introduced gasped at the words. “Truly, Delia? I had no idea.”

Esra chuckled lightly and rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a woman who married _into_ the Stormlands. Did you learn nothing from that husband of yours before he died? Were it not for the Kingsguard stealing Ser Barristan from us, we’d boast the greatest knight in the realm _and_ Harvest Hall would be occupied with a brood of great knights to protect us all.”

Delia hummed and turned her attention back to Barristan. Her hand reached out and rubbed his arm. The contact caused a storm to brew in Genna that vibrated up her arm and shook Jaime’s. Delia’s words were honeyed as she smiled softly. “You haven’t visited home in so long, Barristan. We’ve missed you.”

“King’s Landing is my home. I’ve not seen Harvest Hall in twenty-five years.” There was a fatigue to Barristan’s tone that captured Jaime’s attention. His eyes darted to Barristan, but Delia was quick to reply.

“All the more reason to visit home. You’re of the Stormlands; not the Crownlands. Perhaps you should follow Ser Arthur’s lead and make a match. You’d field many offers.” Delia attempted to sound casual, but Jaime could sense the woman’s interest in something more. The other women in the group appeared equally interested at the prospect.

_Oh gods. They approached to present themselves to him._

Lady Aislen rolled her eyes. “He _chose_ to leave Harvest Hall for a life in service to the crown. Let him visit other holdings that might interest him more.”

“He is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I fail to see how he’ll have time to visit anywhere.” Genna’s tone was clipped and Jaime cringed inwardly. 

_Gods, Genna. Don’t say anything that could cause rumors to swirl._

Delia inclined her head and spoke with courtly formality. “Yes, your Grace, though he has served the crown for half his life. He has done more in that time than most men accomplish in a lifetime. With the allowance to wed and have children, it would seem cruel not to afford him the chance. He is nearly fifty and has never experienced a woman’s love.”

Jaime gnawed on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He stared at his feet in the hope that when he looked up, the group of women might have dispersed.

“I don’t need all that, Delia.” Barristan spoke brusquely at her side. The tension was palpable and Jaime considered that going away inside might not be a bad option.

Delia’s brow raised in question. “Don’t need a wife and babe, or don’t need love? You have much to offer, Barristan.”

There was a familiarity between them that Jaime could sense even without knowing their shared history. Considering the tension in Genna’s body that constricted around his arm, Jaime worried at what she was thinking.

Barristan only shook his head. “I’m happy here with things as they are.” 


	24. Genna III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genna receives some news that changes everything.

It was midday and Genna was having tea with Olenna and Catelyn. From their position in the gardens, Genna could just see into the yards where Brienne was training with Ser Brynden. 

A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched from afar. The girl came alive with a sword in hand. At court, Brienne was timid and lacking confidence; a likely reflection of her many _lessons_ from Septa Roelle. With her involvement in the young girl's life, Genna was working to correct that. 

As Catelyn and Olenna carried on, Genna’s eyes drifted to Barristan who stood on guard at the edge of the sitting area. As always, he had his head in the clouds whenever the women made idle conversation over tea. As if sensing her gaze, Barristan’s head turned towards her. Genna’s eyes lingered on Barristan well past the point of propriety. An entire conversation passed between them in a heartbeat. 

It had become that way with them. Small touches when no one was looking. A heated gaze from over their cups. Stolen moments in concealed locations. 

There were days when Genna broke down in her room over the cruelty of it all. Barristan was hers, but only in the shadows. They had to be careful so as not to rouse suspicion and to maintain the false marriage that Genna and Selwyn presented at court.

Tywin thought Genna’s need of moon tea was to prevent Selwyn’s babe from quickening in her womb. If Tywin knew the truth of its purpose, he would respond in a way that made Aerys seem sane by comparison. 

Genna dutifully drank her moon tea and found ways to steal moments with Barristan. Almost anywhere concealed was fair game, but _never_ the White Sword Tower. That much Barristan was adamant about. 

The best days were those when Barristan had guard duty at night. When the castle quieted and the lighting in the hallways dimmed, he could slip inside and join Genna beneath the silks. Of course being Barristan, he refused to sleep, but Genna did enjoy the feel of his body wrapped around her protectively. 

_‘I’m on duty. I can’t stay much longer.’_

Selwyn often japed that Barristan should do a _kindness_ to the sworn brothers and volunteer himself for permanent overnight duty. Selwyn’s argument seemed sound in Genna’s mind. 

_“What differences would it make if you entered my room through the hallway door or Genna’s door to kill an intruder?”_

Barristan had been unimpressed as ever. _‘A Kingsguard is meant to stop the assailant before they enter your room, your Grace.’_

_‘What if someone comes in over my balcony? You’d hear an attempted assault better if you were in Genna’s room.’_

Genna loved Selwyn for his attempt at aiding her plight. He understood that deep down, the arrangement hurt Genna and Barristan. They could not love one another openly, and every moment was shrouded in secrecy. 

At first, that necessary secrecy brought a heightened thrill to their coupling. Of late, Genna felt loss at the quick departure and hurried passion. It hardly seemed to stop them however. They were drawn together like moths to a flame.

Staring at Barristan, Genna’s mind wandered back to the conversation with Lady Delia following Arthur and Lyanna’s wedding.

_A fortnight ago_

“Lady Delia is pretty, and conveniently, quite available.” Genna’s brow raised in challenge as she stared across the table at Barristan. 

Following the awful reception with the Stormlands, Genna had practically dragged Barristan back to her room. Selwyn was to take lunch with Brienne and some of the more prominent vassals, which left Genna in need of a guard. 

Barristan sighed and stared at his lap. “She was quite upset when my cousin died. I don’t see her remarrying, but perhaps she is trying to replace some piece of what she lost.”

Genna was at war with herself. She loved Barristsan in ways she never imagined possible. The mere thought of Barristan with anyone else felt enough to break her, but it was that same love that wished to see him happy.

“I’ll admit that I _might have_ envisioned clawing her pretty little face off every time she touched you, but… if she would make you happy… someone you could love freely before gods and men…”

Barristan’s head lifted abruptly at the words. His eyes narrowed as though the comment was the most absurd thing to ever grace his ears. “She would not make me happy. Did I not make that clear enough?”

When Genna did not immediately reply, Barristan’s feet extended and his heels pulled the legs of Genna’s chair closer. Barristan’s arms wrapped possessively around Genna as his lips pressed warm and soft against hers. 

As Barristan’s arms continued tugging Genna towards him, she moved onto his lips and kissed him deeply. In between kisses, she continued to raise her doubts.

“Her eyes were an astonishing blue…”

Barristan’s palms cupped Genna’s face and his fingers curled around to the back of her neck. “I prefer green.”

“Her hair was a lovely sandy-blonde…”

Their lips continued to explore one another’s mouth and jaw as Barristan’s breathless reply reached Genna’s ears. “I prefer golden.”

Lifting them both from the chair, Barristan walked towards the bed and set Genna down. As he crawled over her, Barristan continued to shower her with gentle kisses. As Genna’s fingers brushed through Barristan’s hair, her smile faded and she spoke to her deepest concern. 

“You could live with her openly…”

Barristan pulled back slightly and stared into Genna’s eyes. “I’d rather die knowing only hidden love with you.”

  
  


“Oh pay attention, Genna!” Olenna huffed in annoyance at Genna’s side. “We’re having an important conversation.”

Genna’s brow rose to her hairline. “I’m sorry, what?”

Glancing at Catelyn, Genna noticed the horror on the young woman’s face. _Oh gods. Whatever did Olenna Tyrell say now?_

Olenna shook her head and reached for a piece of cheese on the platter before them. “I said, Grand Maester Pycelle refused Lady Lyanna moon tea yesterday. He was running low and needed to save it for _her Grace_.”

_Oh gods._

Genna snorted at the words. “Oh by the gods, how does a maester run low on such things?”

Olenna’s lips pressed together tightly as she chuckled. “So you don’t deny needing it then? The real question is how does a woman at age two-and-forty require such things? Is his Grace that good?”

An incredible heat burned the back of Genna’s neck. She did not embarrass easily, but that Barristan was standing just feet away made the situation incredibly uncomfortable for her. The subtle awkward shuffling of his feet indicated that he had heard the very question. 

Raising a challenging brow at Olenna, Genna smirked. “Yes. He is _that_ good.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Olenna’s lips; her eyes filled with mischief and amusement. Leaning onto her elbows, the Queen of Thorns met Genna’s challenge with one of her own. “He’s a rather _large_ man.Wouldn’t you say, Lady Genna.”

For her part, Catelyn appeared ready to slide under the table and die of mortification. She scolded the pair of them. “This is indecent. I’m never taking tea with the pair of you again.” 

It was brief enough to go unnoticed to her tablemates, but Genna’s eyes flickered to Barristan before settling back on Olenna and replied loudly. “ _Very_. Is there anything else you’d be curious to know, Lady Olenna?”

The abrupt movement away from the area by Barristan hardly went unnoticed by Genna. She smirked at Olenna, but in truth, she was pleased at the guard assignment that day. Genna so enjoyed making Barristan squirm. 

When the women finished their tea, they walked slowly towards the Keep together. Genna enjoyed spending time with Olenna and Catelyn. It was wonderful to have friends at the Keep, though the younger of the two usually left their meetings thoroughly scandalized. Catelyn always threatened to stop joining them, but Genna saw the hint of amusement flash in her eyes when they spoke.

“I should wait for the princess’s lessons to end. I’ll see you ladies on the morrow then?”

Catelyn nodded politely, but Olenna sent the Hand’s wife running with her parting comment. “If her Grace can manage the walk to the gardens after such a wild ride. Poor thing. Keep up with that moon tea.”

At a distance, Barristan muttered to himself in dismay which Olenna always brushed off as him being equally demanding of propriety as Catelyn was. With both women gone, Genna raised a brow at Barristan. She extended her hand to await his. 

“You and Olenna are entirely indecent.” Barristan mumbled the words as he approached Genna’s side; his arm extending out to her hand.

Genna smirked as amusement bubbled in her chest. “I believe in honest answers when questioned by a friend. Though perhaps my memory falters in my _advanced_ age.” The words were sarcastic and called back to Olenna’s comment about the moon tea.

Genna understood that most women saw their moonblood become erratic in their forties before they became barren, but her courses were still regular. Glancing at Barristan, Genna spoke suggestively. “I suppose I could use a reminder.”

Before Barristan could reply, Genna was tugging him through a side entryway into the Keep. They moved quietly and quickly through the darkened hallway towards a sideroom that Genna knew to always go unused. It was a small study near the throne room used by one of the pyromancers under Aerys’ command. 

Moving inside, Genna pounced on Barristan after shutting the door behind them. In the warmer weather, the Kingsguard began forgoing their armor when not at court. For guard duty of the royal family, they wore only their standard uniforms that Genna had designed for them. 

The decision rooted in necessity was quickly proving to be Genna’s favorite thing to take advantage of. She loved the way the azure doublet brought out Barristan’s eyes, and the ease of body contact it afforded in their secret trysts. 

Reaching for the laces of his breeches, Genna could feel his thickness already. She dropped to her knees and took him in mouth. Barristan muttered obscenities that provoked a smirk at Genna’s lips. His hands reached back against the wall to brace himself. 

The act was something she never did for Emmon nor any other man. She had slept with a handful of visiting knights during her marriage to Emmon, but Genna thought such acts below her and she never offered herself in such a way. With Barristan, Genna loved to bring him pleasure and watch him come undone. Of course, it was equal give and take.

Strong hands reached down and tugged her upwards. Spinning them around, Barristan lifted Genna against the wall and pulled up her skirts. His fingers moved aside her smallclothes and pushed into her without hesitation. Now it was Genna’s turn to moan and mumble into his mouth. 

Barristan’s fingers moved purposefully and Genna felt as though she might sink into the wall. Hi skill had come as no surprise to Genna given how dexterous his fingers were when constantly adjusting around the hilt of weapons. Positioning himself at her entrance, Barristan withdrew his fingers and pushed inside. They both stilled at the unity, and savored the moment. 

When their eyes met, any lust present moments earlier was quickly replaced by love. It was the part that hurt the most. Genna's love for Barristan felt as deep and vast as the ocean. She wanted to show him affection before all of court and take his name. Such things could never come to pass. Their love would stay hidden in dark rooms such as the one they found themselves in now. 

Barristan began to move rhythmically as their breathing began to shallow and their hearts raced. The feel of Barristan’s tight muscles under her fingertips made Genna’s lower walls constrict wantonly. 

They found release together with muffled moans against one another’s skin. Genna didn’t want to let go. She wanted to stay in that room forever with Barristan, but they would need to get back to the yards before Brienne’s lessons were done. As always, they left the room cautiously after fixing their attire and whispering words of love. Genna both loved it, and hated it.

* * *

“You’re overextending yourself, Genna. I’m worried about you.” Selwyn grumbled at her side as they walked the hallway. “You’ve yet to find an agreeable Septa for Brienne, you’ve taken on the trade project, and now the improvements at the orphanage. No wonder you feel ill of late! I appreciate it, truly, but accept some aid for once.”

Four moons had passed since Genna unloaded responsibilities of Master of Coin onto Lord Baelish. Lord Arryn had offered the young man’s aid to lighten Genna’s workload and allow her more time to take on some of Selwyn’s favored projects. Genna knew that they should find a proper Septa for Brienne, but first Genna wanted to ensure all the awful lessons imparted on Brienne by Roelle were removed from the girl’s thoughts. 

“I’m fine, Sel. I think I’m making some real progress with Brienne! Just four moons ago at the wedding, she welcomed the Martells beautifully! She was so much more confident than I’ve ever seen her, and she got along well with Princess Rhaenys and Lady Daenerys. She and Princess Rhaenys write to one another regularly now! They’re growing quite close and I’m so happy she has a friend her own age.”

In a few moons, Brienne would be nine, and Selwyn would seriously need to consider matches for her. Of course, Tywin still pushed for Jaime to be considered, but Genna and Selwyn wanted to afford Brienne the chance at love. Both despised political marriages, but of course they understood the importance of them.

Houses had been reaching out with offers of betrothal for a year now. Most seemed disingenuous with lords merely looking for power through Brienne, but Genna considered that some might make for a decent match. Further, Genna knew that Jaime was difficult to please, and would not love Brienne. More than anything, Genna wanted someone to wed Brienne for who she was as a person; not out of duty or a desire for power. 

As they walked through the Keep, Selwyn continued complaining at Genna’s side. While Genna appreciated his concern for her well-being, she didn’t want to hear it. 

_Gods, this man. He gives me a headache._

Genna pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Every step Genna took, she felt more and more lightheaded just listening to his ramblings. Her hand reached out for the wall as she swayed slightly. She didn’t remember falling, but everything went black. 

* * *

Genna awoke in a daze. She was laying on her back somewhere, but the images were blurry. Voices spoke over her, but it took a moment to place them. Then the faces of Selwyn and Pycelle came into focus.

“Thank the gods! I told you that you’re far too stressed, Genna. Thank the gods Brynden caught you.”

_What? What is going on?_

Genna tried to sit upright, but the room was spinning. _I’ve not fainted in quite a long time._

“Your Grace, if I may. I’d like to ask some questions of Lady Genna.” Pycelle appraised Genna as she swayed upon sitting upright. 

Selwyn shrugged in reply. “Of course, of course.”

Pycelle stepped before Genna and asked several questions about her eating habits of late, sleeping schedule, activity level, and on and on. Finally he asked after her moonblood cycles. 

“I had been quite regular until a few moons ago. My courses have been a bit erratic and lighter, but I suppose it’s age finally catching up to me.” Genna’s reply was disinterested as she rubbed her forehead. 

Pycelle hummed in consideration. “Based on everything you’ve told me, I think it best to examine you, your Grace. You might be with child.”

Genna laughed lightly and shook her head. “No, I think not. I continue to take the moon tea that you supply me. Besides, I’ve just turned three-and-forty! I’m certainly not of childbearing age.”

“Be that as it may, your symptoms make me take pause, and that your moonblood has been off for a few moons may indicate something is wrong. I prefer to check.” Pycelle seemed uncertain as he spoke, but Genna had little reason for worry. She knew her body, and the moon tea was taken regularly to prevent such a catastrophe from occurring.

“Very well. I’ve had babes before, and I know my body, but if you insist.” Genna sighed and watched as Selwyn stepped outside. 

The exam was brief and Pycelle moved towards the door to allow Selwyn back inside. Selwyn draped his massive arm over Genna’s shoulder and spoke quietly into her ear. “It’s your lucky day. Fainting and an exam from your favorite maester.”

Selwyn knew of Genna’s distaste for Pycelle. He was one of Tywin’s lackeys and she didn’t much trust the man, but as a maester, he was decent enough. Further, Tywin would have Pycelle’s head if Genna became pregnant, so the man was certain to brew the tea properly.

Pycelle glanced between the pair of them uneasily. “Her Grace is with child. I’d say two… quite possibly three moons.”

Maddened laughter pushed past Genna’s lips. She looked between the two men and waited for their shared mirth. When neither laughed, Genna paled. “I’m sorry? That can’t be right… I take the moon tea. I’m too advanced in age. I’m… I can’t.”

“I don’t know what’s gone wrong, your Grace. I brew the tea _quite_ strong. Do you have reason to believe that someone might be tampering with it? Are you drinking it in full?”

Genna couldn’t even begin to comprehend it all. The walls were closing in and panic coursed through her body. Shaking her head, Genna tried to withhold the scream threatening to escape. “Surely this can’t be right. No one in this Keep would have any reason to do such a thing.”

At Genna’s side, Selwyn’s face had fallen. He was as ashen as Genna, and he stumbled backwards slightly. “This can’t be happening. We cannot have her walking around pregnant, Grand Maester.”

Pycelle’s eyes went wide. It occurred to Genna that Pycelle likely had no idea that Selwyn expected no babe; his orders were Tywin’s. “I apologize, your Grace, but this pregnancy is well enough along that I have no doubt upon physical exam. Perhaps on the morrow, we have someone follow the chambermaid in secret… see if she tampers with it. We might be able to determine if that is the cause. I swear to you both, that I brew this tea strong.”

Selwyn only nodded in reply, but he was in shock. Standing upright from the exam table, Genna felt her body sway slightly from the shock and earlier dizziness. A firm hand gripped her arm, and Selwyn looked to her with concern. “Lets get you upstairs. We’ll figure this out.”

Tears began to well in Genna’s eyes as they walked. She could not have this happen now. It would destroy everything about this arrangement. With Brynden and Jon at their backs, Genna whispered apologies, but Selwyn only shushed her. “We’ll figure it out, Genna.”

They returned to Genna’s room and Selwyn got her settled into bed. He sat on the edge and sighed. “I can’t do this. If that babe is a boy, he’d take Brienne’s place as my heir, and I can’t…”

Selwyn took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. “Even if the babe is a girl, then what? We just force Barristan to watch me raise his child and pretend it’s mine? We let Brienne think she has a sibling? Seven hells! She’s been begging me for a sibling for years.”

Tears began to spill from Genna’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I drink the bloody tea every day. I didn’t want another babe either. I lost my children, and I can’t go through something like that ever again.”

Selwyn gripped Genna’s forearm and squeezed reassuringly. “I’ll have the chambermaid followed. I doubt anything will come of it, but I’ll ensure you’ve not been betrayed, though gods only know why someone would do all that!”

Wiping at her tears, Genna nodded and sniffled. She glanced towards the balcony and spoke in hushed tones. “I can’t tell Barristan yet. He might very well run to the Wall.”

“No! Do not tell him anything yet. Lets figure this out first. If we don’t have a plan before we speak with him, it will only frazzle him. I can’t handle all that on top of this. You just rest here and I’ll have food sent up. On the morrow, we make a plan.”

Selwyn stood from the bed and offered a sympathetic look at Genna. “We’ll be fine. You’re reasonably intelligent.” His words were teasing, and Genna appreciated the attempt at levity. “Between your brain and my… charm?... we’ll figure this out.”

“You are not charming. You are annoying.” Genna’s words were laced with jest as Selwyn bent down to kiss the top of her head. 

“Get some rest.”

The next day, the Keep dissolved into chaos. Selwyn entered the room in a rage and went straight through to his own chambers, returning moments later with a large pour of brandy. 

“Fucking miserable cunt!”

Genna eyed the brandy and groaned. “Well good day to you too. I may be miserable, but I am not a cunt.”

Selwyn grumbled and shook his head. “Apologies. Not you. They caught the chambermaid sabotaging your tea!”

Genna’s eyes went wide. After taking a sip of brandy, Selwyn continued. “She has been dumping most of it out, and leaving just enough for that awful taste. She’s watering it down with a similar tasting tea that lacks the same properties. We have her in the cells, but she won’t say _who_ ordered her to do such a thing. Pycelle says that’s why you’ve likely had intermittent bleeding. She could have killed your babe giving you diluted moon tea.”

Panic was replaced by a fierce protectiveness in Genna. She had not wanted another babe, but now she was likely three moons with child and someone had been tampering with her tea, anger began to boil deep within. Her child… Barristan’s child... could have been harmed. 

“Fucking miserable cunt!” Genna growled the words that were only moments ago uttered by Selwyn. He raised his snifter in mock toast and huffed in annoyance.

“Yes, exactly!” Selwyn sat down on the edge of the bed and tossed back the brandy in his cup. “Grand Maester Pycelle offered something, though it’s your decision, I… I don’t care for it.”

Genna’s eyes narrowed at Selwyn. He took a deep breath and looked at her. “At your age and at this point in pregnancy it’s a risk, but he could brew a very strong batch. He said the risk though… it might be too much.”

“No.” Genna stared blankly ahead and tilted her chin up in a stubborn resolve. “The babe is here now. I’ll do whatever we decide is best, but I’ll not harm the babe.”

Selwyn seemed to sag with relief at the words. “Good. I think we have to consider _why_ before we decide what to do. Why would someone want this? Either someone wants you pregnant with my babe and thinks we lay together _or_ someone wants you pregnant with Barristan’s babe, though how they would _know_ is beyond me. I’m not good at politics, Genna. You have a mind for it. _Why_?”

Genna considered his points. It could only be for one of two reasons. “To the first point, someone might not want Brienne on the throne, but it is a great gamble to hope for a boy. I hate to say it, but they would have an easier time targeting Brienne. To be cautious, we should increase her number of guards. I gather someone knows that we do not lay together, but that I drink moon tea regularly. Someone wants me pregnant to expose my infidelity.” 

_But why? What comes of that? A new wife perhaps_.

“Does _anyone_ know that you don’t want a true wife and another babe?”

Selwyn sighed and shook his head. “Only you, Barristan, and Ser Goodwin.”

Gennna nodded slowly. “I’ve only told Jaime beyond that, and the boy is tight-lipped. Further, he would never betray my confidence. He wouldn’t harm us or Barristan like this.”

Selwyn nodded in agreement. “This list of people are the most honorable that I know. Ironically enough, it is an honorable group of people protecting a dishonorable arrangement between you and I.”

Genna sighed. “I asked the question, because it is more likely someone wants me pregnant because they do _not_ know of our arrangement. They expect you to fly into a rage; take my head and Barristan’s. It’s treason, Sel. Someone wants me gone thinking you’ll take a new wife.”

Genna tapped her chin in consideration. Then an idea came to her. “ _Or_ they think it will cause discord. Imagine the scandal if you did not claim the babe? Tywin would fly into a rage. I wager that he’ll hear of this within days from Pycelle. He will likely assume that I’m bedding you. He has no reason to know we’re not, and he is the one having Pycelle ensure that I take moon tea.”

Selwyn’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would he do that? Wouldn’t he _want_ you giving me a male heir?”

“At first he did. Then he got hung up on the idea of Jaime wedding Brienne. Has he continued to speak to you of that?” 

Genna watched as understanding dawned on Selwyn’s face. “That is quite the gamble on his part if I didn’t allow the match or the children reject it.”

Genna snorted at the words. “Do you think my brother accepts ‘no’ from his House? He would find a way to force Jaime into it. He forced me to wed you, though luckily, we had an understanding and I didn’t mind.”

“What!? How?” Selwyn gasped in horror. 

“He threatened Jaime’s life. He knows that I would do anything for the boys.” Genna hated saying the words aloud. It hurt to admit how cruel her big brother had become. He had been her protector once. She loved and looked up to Tywin, but over the years he grew cold and bitter. While Aerys spiraled into madness, Tywin spiraled into hatefulness. Joanna’s death broke something in Tywin, but in truth, Genna wondered if the signs were always there.

Tywin resented their father growing up; thought him weak, idiotic, and unrespectable. 

_Perhaps what I thought of as protectiveness was little more than a powerplay. He learned how others could be used from a young age, and he manipulated situations to get what he wanted._

Selwyn flopped backwards onto the bed at Genna’s feet and sighed. “Now what? What do we do?”

Genna hated what her gut told her to do. It would hurt all three of them; Selwyn, herself, and Barristan. “Until we can figure out who is trying to cause discord, we need to act normal about this. We’ll need to present the babe as yours, but… do you have a septon you trust?”

“Yes, on Tarth. Why?” Selwyn’s tone was uneasy as he spoke. 

The words pained Genna, but it seemed the only way to ensure everyone’s safety and Brienne’s claim to the throne. “We should have it annulled in secret. I don’t want this babe used against Brienne at any point to call the line of succession into question. The babe will be a Waters. If the babe is a boy...”

Genna didn’t need to say the rest. They both knew that Tywin could bring war upon them if a boy with Lannister blood and an assumed claim to the throne was passed over. 

“No, not a Waters, Genna. That will crush Barristan.” Selwyn pushed onto his elbows and narrowed his eyes at Genna.

Genna pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t implicate him in this. It would destroy him. You see the looks that he and Jaime receive from some visitors. No one says it to their face because of you, but they are kingslayers. They broke their oaths for the greater good, but some people judge them harshly. Imagine if on top of it, he cuckolded a king! Treason and a kingslayer. One of the most honorable men I know, branded as the most dishonorable. I can’t do it to him.”

Genna’s eyes watered as she spoke. “He’ll see the babe every day. I don’t want him judged for this. His honor means everything to him.”

“No! This is worse. He’ll find no honor in not claiming his babe. I’ll not have any of this. We’ll have it annulled and you’ll wed Barristan. Fuck the consequences. Let them come for us.”

Genna wrung her hands in frustration. “ _Who_ , Selwyn. _Who_ is coming for us? One person? One kingdom? More than one kingdom? The only way to keep everyone safe is annul the marriage in secret and for now, allow the kingdoms to think it yours.”

“We annul the marriage and you wed Barristan in secret. This babe is a Selmy. I’ll not take that from him. So be it if we must pretend, but we will be honest with Brienne. At some point, you must tell this child when he or she is old enough to understand the consequences of why our lie must be maintained for now. I’ll have Barristan act as your personal guard. I want him to have time with that babe that no one can question. Certainly no one will question the Lord Commander guarding the queen and heirs so closely.”

Genna lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Selwyn. “Thank you.”

It would not be an easy thing for Barristan, but it would be safest for everyone. It wasn’t as though the babe lost out on any birthrights. Neither Barristan nor Genna had lands to offer, but Selwyn’s generosity afforded them protection. 

“Don’t thank me yet. You have to tell Barristan.” 

* * *

It was midday following small council when Barristan ran into the room. “What’s going on!? Brynden said you fainted yesterday, and then you’ve been in here ever since. No one would tell me anything, and now the king tells me to come check on you.”

Genna sighed and reached out for Barristan. “Come here. Relax.”

“Relax!? It’s been a day, Genna. I can’t even check on you without…” Barristan looked away in frustration. The complaint didn’t require explanation . 

Barristan could not simply visit whenever he liked. It would be indecent and people would question why the Lord Commander is constantly coming and going from the queen’s bedchamber when the king is not around.

“Please… sit down.” Genna shuffled over to accommodate Barristan. There was no need to still be in bed, but in truth, Genna needed time and space to think. When Barristan sat, she reached out for his hand. 

“I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to remain calm.” _He’s not going to remain calm. Why bother?_

At the words, Barristan’s eyes went wide and he began to panic. “It’s curable. We will find a cure if I have to scour through every gods damned book at the Citadel…”

“Do shut up, Selmy!” Genna tugged Barristan down onto the bed and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m fine, I said. I’m not dying.”

“Well why not start with that?” Barristan’s words were muffled against Genna’s chest. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I’m with child.” Genna felt Barristan tense in her arms. He sat back slowly and spoke hesitantly. 

“Please tell me that’s some strange, idiomatic expression.” 

Genna huffed and cast a withering look at Barristan. As quickly as her vexation came on, it faded. Genna watched as panic began to set in. Just as she feared, Barristan became unhinged. He stood from the bed and paced wildly. 

“I’ve truly fucked up now. Every oath I’ve ever taken is shit. I need to go to the Wall or worse.” Barristan bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. In the past year, there was slowly more white than blond, but Genna loved it still. 

“I said to stay calm.” _I knew he would do this. I should have tied him up first._

“How can I stay calm!? I…I... this is treason. This is even worse than simply bedding the king’s wife. I put a bastard on you, and he’ll have to cast you out. Perhaps if they just take my head…”

“Barristan!” Genna leapt from the bed and rushed to him. “Stop! Selwyn and I have a plan, but I need you to calm down.” 

“I’ve put you in harm’s way. I’ve jeopardized everything. I’m meant to keep my king’s secrets, and now my own actions will uncover it before all of court.” Barristan was panicked and rambling. 

Shaking her head, Genna shushed Barristan and tried to calm him. “Listen to me! Stop!”

Cupping Barristan’s face, Genna smiled softly. “Selwyn and I are going to Tarth. His Septon is trustworthy, and he will annul the marriage so that this babe will not compromise Brienne’s claim. It will be recorded so that if a time ever comes where it is necessary, the proper documentation exists. Only Selwyn, me, you, and Brienne will know… aside from the Septon of course. And… I’m prepared for the babe to be a Waters, though Selwyn did offer to have the Septon wed us, though… I don’t want you to feel obligated…”

Barristan’s lips were on Genna’s before she could finish her thought. As Genna sank into the kiss, she realized with sickening dread that Barristan must think this meant they could love freely. Pushing back from him slowly, Genna met Barristan’s eyes.

“Barristan… it would be in secret. You can’t… for now, Selwyn would claim the babe before court.”

Genna watched as Barristan’s face fell. His eyes misted before darting away. “So Selwyn’s babe in all but _assumed_ name.”

Genna tried offer reassurance, but Barristan stepped back and put his hand up. “It’s fine. I understand. It’s a fair price for your safety and the babe’s.”

“There’s more to it. Someone is plotting against us. Someone _knows_ .” Genna shared what she and Selwyn discussed, including her fears of how the babe would be used as a pawn to _potentially_ ignite a war. 

As expected, Barristan raged. He was a protector at heart, and everyone important to him was threatened by this betrayal. When he heard that the chambermaid was alive in the cells, Barristan responded as Selwyn had. “She could have hurt our… your babe.”

It broke Genna’s heart that Barristan felt no allowance to call the babe his. Genna grabbed Barristan’s hand and placed it on her lower abdomen. “You are this babe’s father, Barristan. Our babe. Will you protect our babe? I know that what I ask of you hurts. I want nothing more than for all of the kingdoms to know this babe is a Selmy, but we can’t do that until we figure out who is behind this. That could take time.”

As Barristan’s fingers splayed across Genna’s stomach, he smiled softly. “Of course. I’d do anything for the pair of you.”

Genna prayed to the gods it wouldn’t always be like this. If they could identify the threat, they could take the necessary steps, and then reveal the truth to everyone. Genna would ensure that every man, woman, and child knew this babe was a Selmy when the time came.


	25. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne learns a secret and has another name day celebration.

Selwyn kneeled before Brienne and clutched her hands. They stood in the Sept on Tarth in the middle of the afternoon. Aside from her father, only Lady Genna, Ser Barristan, and the Septon were present. 

“Listen to me Brienne, sometimes even good people must keep secrets to protect the ones they love. This secret… it will keep the people you love from danger. Do you understand that?”

In just another moon turn she would be nine, and Brienne was beginning to understand more about how the world worked. Through Genna’s guidance, Brienne came to learn that not everything was black and white, but rather complex shades of grey. She knew that lying was dishonorable, but she also did not want people she loved to die. Meeting her father’s questioning eyes, Brienne nodded slowly in understanding. 

_ I don't want to lose anyone else. I’ll be alone.  _

“Good, now listen very carefully to me. The reason that I wed Lady Genna was because I made a promise to her brother. Lord Tywin helped save us during the war, and in return, he wanted me to marry her. Do you recall what we’ve discussed about marriages? Almost all nobles are given matches to form political alliances. Lord Tywin wanted to ally with the crown.”

In the stories, knights rescued the maidens because they wanted to; not because of political alliances. This wasn’t a story however. This was reality, and in reality, nobles had to do things for their House rather than their hearts. Brienne nodded again, and her father spoke once more.

“Well Lady Genna and I love each other very much as  _ friends _ , but I could never give her my heart. Your mother was the only woman I could ever truly call  _ wife _ . I promised myself to never have another child or take a true wife since my heart forever belongs to her. Lady Genna did me a favor. We have a secret together. We are wed, but only in title. She helped me, but now I need to help her.”

Brienne’s eyes darted to Lady Genna who stood strangely close to Ser Barristan. Her hand was holding his tightly while his other arm wrapped around her waist. Glancing back at her father, Brienne smiled.

“You should help her then. I love Lady Genna too.”

Selwyn huffed a small laugh and nodded. “Of course, you do. Now Ser Barristan and Lady Genna love each other like I love your mother. They are going to get married today after Septon Alder annuls my marriage. They’re going to have a babe together, but some people want to hurt them and cause problems for us. We have to keep pretending that Lady Genna and I are still married. We must pretend that their babe is your little brother or little sister. It is the only way to keep them safe. Do you understand that?”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “I can be a big sister!?”

Selwyn winced at the words. “A  _ pretend  _ big sister, sweetling.”

“No.” Genna spoke sternly from Selwyn’s back. “A  _ real  _ big sister. Blood does not make family. Love does. Even when the time comes that we can tell the truth to everyone, you can always call this babe your family.”

Brienne smiled widely and nodded. “I’ll keep your secret, Lady Genna. I’ll help with the nappies too. It’s what big sisters do. I help change little Sansa when Lady Catelyn needs it.”

Genna stepped forward and crouched down to embrace Brienne. “You’ll be the best big sister ever. Thank you, Brienne.”

“Now remember, Brienne, they have to pretend that they are not married and we have to pretend that the babe is a Tarth. I don’t know for how long, but long enough to keep everyone safe. When the threat is gone, we must be honest with everyone, but not right now.”

Brienne smiled widely and nodded. “I understand, father. Lady Genna says that I’m not a dolt no matter what Septa Roelle said. She’s just a miserable cunt.”

“Oh dear gods!” Septon Alder clutched his chest in horror at the crass words, but Selwyn could do little more than laugh.

“You’ve learned a lot from House Lannister it seems. No one will ever doubt this game of pretend.” Selwyn patted Brienne’s head and stood to full height. “Apologies, Septon. You see why I must annul the marriage. The woman is truly a terrible influence.”

Genna snorted and swatted his arm. “Fuck off, Selwyn.”

“My lady, please!” Septon Alder glared at Genna in reprimand, but he quickly turned his attention to a piece of parchment in his hand. “I’ve prepared the documents as requested. Given your lack of consummation and the forced nature of this union... and apparently the woman’s questionable use of language in a Sept... this is a straightforward annulment in the eyes of our faith. I just need you both to sign this document to record the annulment. I’ll have a record sent to the Citadel under strict order not to disclose this information due to an active threat against the crown. My missive will also contain record of the wedding to follow.”

Brienne hadn’t seen her father look so relieved in years. She smiled at their happiness even though much of this was still very confusing to her. Both Genna and Sewlyn signed the document. When that was settled, the Septon had Ser Barristan and Lady Genna step forward. 

“Oh, wait!” Selwyn rushed to a small bench where he left a bag of things upon entry. 

Brienne watched with great interest as her father produced a cloak and a ribbon from the bag. He smiled widely as he moved back to their group. “We must do this properly! Get rid of that white cloak, Barristan. You’re a Selmy today.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide as Selwyn unfurled a cloak unfamiliar to Brienne. “Where did you get that?”

Selwyn smiled and looked down at the cloak. “Thank the gods Jaime can sew! I helped, but my stitching is quite shit as you can see. I procured a brown cloak easy enough. That didn’t raise any suspicions. The sigil was a gods damned nightmare though! Honestly Barristan, your sigil is ridiculous. I took bits of Genna’s ugly, gold dress for the blades of wheat here.”

Genna gasped. “You used my gold dress!”

“Oh come now, Genna. That dress was awful! You’ve not even noticed it missing for a bloody moon turn.” 

Barristan snickered and nodded emphatically. “It was awful. This is a much better use of it. Why do parts of the wheat appear to be drooping?”

Barristan tilted his head as he appraised the cloak, but he had a wide smile on his face. At his words, Brienne tilted her own head.  _ It is drooping. Even I can do better than that.  _

“That bit of wheat was drunk on brandy. Apologies. My hand wasn’t as steady as Jaime’s.”

With a loud snort, Genna stepped forward and hugged Selwyn. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you.”

With a disapproving huff, the Septon brought them to order. Ser Barristan placed the cloak over Lady Genna and smiled warmly. Standing beside her father, Brienne watched the small ceremony. She had enjoyed watching Ser Arthur and Lady Lyanna wed, and now she was enjoying watching Ser Barristan and Lady Genna wed. There was something romantic about it all. Brienned loved the cloaking, the hands being bound, and the vows. 

All she ever heard about were matches made for political reasons, but the last two weddings she saw were for love. The way Ser Barristan looked at Lady Genna made Brienne want to clap with joy. 

_ Ser Barristan loves Lady Genna. Ser Arthur loves Lady Lyanna. I hope someday a knight can love me like that. I hope someday someone can look at me like that, even though I’m not pretty like Lady Genna and Lady Lyanna. _

Lady Genna stared at Ser Barristan and smiled widely at the conclusion of the ceremony. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

The kiss was like the ones in Brienne’s books. She clapped excitedly as the couple became lost in one another. When they broke the kiss, Genna collapsed into Barristan and buried her face against his chest. She cried softly as he held her close, and Brienne felt panic set in.

Tugging at her father’s arm, Brienne glanced up to question what was wrong. She was surprised to see tears in her father’s eyes as he watched the newlyweds. “Daddy? Why is she sad?”

“She’s not, sweetling. She’s happy. Very happy.”

* * *

Brienne and Jaime circled one another with swords raised high. Like Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime was not going easy on her, and Brienne appreciated that. Aside from herself, only Jaime knew about his aunt and Ser Barristan. He had remained behind at Evenfall the day prior with Ser Brynden and Ser Jon when Brienne, her father, Genna, and Barristan 'went on a walk'. 

Now, Brienne and Jaime had been sparring for nearly an hour, when a familiar voice called out.  “Look at Tarth’s little knight!”

Brienne lowered her sword and smiled at Ser Goodwin. He was an older man and despite not having seen him in years, Brienne never forgot his face and the deep timbre of his voice. 

“Father lets me train with the Kingsguard!”

Goodwin approached and patted her head. “I can see that. Gal would be proud of how well you’re doing.”

Brienne felt her heart soar at the mention of Galladon. Her father still struggled to speak of them. Mother. Galladon. The twins. When Brienne asked about them at night, he needed a glass of brandy and he cried. 

Unsheathing his blade, Goodwin smirked at Brienne while addressing Jaime. “Ser Jaime, do you mind if I have a spar with my favorite girl?”

Jaime moved back against the rock wall and sheathed his sword as Brienne circled around Goodwin. On more than one occasion, she caught him off guard with the flat of her blade.

“Gods, child! You’ve not had a lesson or two, you’re practically a knight! Excellent, Brienne!” Goodwin chuckled and picked up the pace, moving faster and striking harder.

From the edge of the yards, Jaime shouted instruction and encouragement at Brienne. She tried to make all the adjustments per his demands, but she was having too much fun sparring Goodwin that soon everything else faded away. After some time, Goodwin put up a yielding hand. “Have mercy on an old man. You win, princess. I’ll not cross you in this lifetime.”

Goodwin collapsed in false death to the ground and panted from the exertion. “Come, tell me tales from that awful city.”

Brienne laughed and sat on the grass beside him. She took a deep breath and looked up at the passing clouds. “I hate it. I don’t… the other children don’t care for me.”

Goodwin picked up his head and glanced at her with furrowed brows. “You? How could anyone not love you? Fools! I never liked court. A bunch of pretentious shits.”

Brienne chuckled and glanced at Goodwin through her lashes. She briefly looked at Jaime to ensure he wasn’t listening. While Brienne trusted Jaime, she also knew that he told Genna everything. Ser Goodwin was a good listener and would not spill her secrets.

“I think they prefer their princesses to be beautiful, graceful, and witty. I’m some kind of freak to them.”

Goodwin sat up quickly. “Don’t say such things. You are beautiful in ways they can never be. You’re a good, honorable, loving girl. They’ll die miserable and alone some day. And graceful? You just danced fluid circles around me! Wit at court? No, child. That is cruelty. They hide behind poor japes and thinly veiled, passive aggressive comments to shield their own insecurities and failures.”

Goodwin tugged Brienne close and squeezed her tightly. “You have your mother’s warmth, your brother's determination, and your father’s strength. Tell me of him? Is your father truly well? Are you spending enough time with him?”

“He’s spending much more time with me now, but… I think he’s very sad.”

At Brienne’s reply, Goodwin sighed and glanced to the sky. “Is he drinking again?”

_ Did he stop? _

* * *

It was one moon after the secret wedding on Tarth, and Brienne was back in King’s Landing. The trip to Tarth had been painfully short, but it was for a purpose. Brienne surged ahead and wrapped her arms around Tyrion. “Tyrion! You’re here!”

The friends crashed together and Tyrion laughed loudly at Brienne’s strong embrace. “Gods! You’ve gotten strong.”

“The Kingsguard have been training me, remember?” Brienne stepped back and smiled widely at Tyrion. 

With a small laugh, Tyrion glanced up at her and nodded. “How could I forget. I do believe you’ve gotten taller too.” Tyrion’s eyes went wide, and his voice took on a feigned worry. “That or I'm shrinking! Oh gods… Brienne! Am I shrinking!?”

Brienne laughed loudly and shook her head. Grabbing Tyrion’s hand, she tugged him towards the yards. “I can’t believe you actually came!”

“It’s your ninth name day, princess. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. What did you ask for as a gift?” Tyrion smiled while they walked hand in hand towards the yards.

The question struck Brienne as odd. She had never asked for any gifts. “Why would I ask for a gift?”

Tyrion’s jaw dropped. He stopped walking and shook his head in disbelief. “Truly?” Tyrion sighed and glanced at the sky with a dramatic sigh. “Seven help me. House Tarth does not know how a name day works. I asked for a dragon on one of my name days, though in fairness, it was never fulfilled.”

Punching Tyrion in the arm, Brienne smirked when he glanced back at her in feigned innocence. “I know how a name day works, but I just enjoy spending time with my father.”

While her father made as much time for her as he could, Brienne understood that Selwyn had to rule the kingdoms. Many nights, Selwyn and Brienne simply talked about their days or played a game. Some nights though, he hid away in his room and drank. She often heard him crying quietly when she snuck towards his door, but she never knocked. 

Brienne was old enough now to know the difference between her father with and without brandy. He never presented himself poorly at court or before council, but in private, he drank brandy to avoid conversations that Brienne wanted to have. 

_ What happens when we die? _

_ Do you miss them? _

_ Do you dream of them? _

_ I can’t remember what Mother looks like. _

Sometimes her father looked at her like the very act hurt. Brienne wondered if her father was finally beginning to see her as everyone else did and he was disgusted, or if she reminded him of something painful. Instead, Brienne focused on what she could control in order to please him. She tried to be dutiful, respectful, and honorable; all the things he sought in others.

As they walked towards the garden, Jaime and Genna approached from the opposite direction. “Here you are! Gods, Brienne. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Genna picked up her pace and smiled widely at Brienne and Tyrion.

“Two of my favorite people!” Crouching with effort given her growing swell, Genna pulled Tyrion into an embrace.

“Aunt Genna. You’ve been… busy.” There was a hint of something in Tyrion’s tone that did not go unnoticed by Brienne. She was too young to understand innuendo, but the way Tyrion spoke the words was different enough to alert her of an underlying meaning.

With a sigh, Genna stood and raised a brow. “You’re keen as ever. What tipped you off? The swell at my belly, or your father’s likely ranting about it?”

They began to walk towards the yards as Tyrion continued peppering Genna with questions. “How many moons?”

“Nearing five, though it feels like eight.” Genna’s hand caressed her small swell as she smiled and glanced at Tyrion. 

Now that Brienne knew the truth of Genna and Barristan, she noticed things. She saw the way they gazed at one another when they thought no one was looking. She saw how Barristan’s hand lightly touched Genna’s fingers as they passed in darkened hallways. She saw how he smiled softly while glancing at her swell. 

When they arrived at the yards, Brienne clapped excitedly. The Kingsguard, Prince Oberyn, her father, and Lord Stark were assembled. Every year they held the Kingsguard tourney for her name day. This year, her father and Lord Stark wanted to try and win the crown of flowers. Brienne bit back a laugh at the sight, not wishing to offend either man. 

For the four years prior, Arthur and Barristan fought for the crown. The only other competitor to at least improve from year to year was Jaime, though he still wasn’t skilled enough to best either of the legendary knights. The year prior, both Arthur and Barristan fought their early rounds with one hand literally tied behind their backs. They thought it was only fair to offer the others a chance. Then they fought each other for the crown with one hand. Arthur won. 

In total, Barristan had won two crowns, and Arthur had one two. This year was a tiebreaker year, and both men seemed more eager than ever. They were already bantering with one another as Briene approached and picked up the crown she had finished weaving only an hour prior. 

“Shall we begin? Our second judge is here now.” Brienne winked at Tyrion and watched as her friend smiled excitedly. Of course, Brienne had told him of the tradition, and Tyrion was thrilled to watch the knights spar. Brienne and Tyrion sat between Genna, Lyanna, Lady Catelyn, and Lady Olenna. 

Glancing down the rock wall, Brienne smiled widely at the Queen of Thorns. “Lady Olenna! You’re going to watch this year? I thought you hated sparring?”

Olenna inclined her heads towards Brienne and smirked. “I was told that the men usually end up half-naked by the end of it. Perhaps I’ll crown my own winner.”

The other women groaned in distaste, but Tyrion guffawed and clapped. “I’m very glad to have been included. The real question is whether the winning knight can escape Lady Olenna’s clutches.”

Genna muttered at Brienne’s side. “He better.”

As expected her father was eliminated in the first round after matching up with Ser Brynden. Lord Stark was also eliminated after facing Ser Jaime in the first round. Not surprisingly, it came down to Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur at the end. The wives, one known and one secret, spent another year bickering over who would take the crown that year. 

Inwardly, Brienne wondered if Tyrion  _ knew _ . He watched his aunt with rapt interest, but said nothing. At one point, Tyrion’s eyes narrowed at Jaime and he raised a questioning brow while inclining his head towards Barristan. Brienne trusted Tyrion, but she couldn’t help but worry. An incredible amount of stress settled in Brienne’s stomach at the thought of anyone noticing the small interactions between Barristan and Genna. 

Turning her attention to the final match, Brienne rolled her eyes as Olenna clapped approvingly when tunics were tossed to the edge of the yards. The Queen of Thorns expressed her approval out loud. "Marvelous! Great fun indeed."  _ I don’t know what’s so special about the men shirtless.  _

Steel met steel as the final round began. Every year, Arthur and Barristan fought a longer match. They improved with each year, and their familiarity with one another was evident in how they anticipated strikes and counters. 

As they had every year, the pair put on quite the showing. The crowd cheered loudly as neither knight truly had the upper hand, but something felt different about that year. Abruptly, Barristan surged forward holding the hilt of his blade with only one hand. His wrists turned fluidly as he blocked and swung from each direction. Arthur was back on his heels and wide-eyed at the unexpected onslaught. 

Spinning right and then left, Barristan disarmed his sworn brother and raised the tip of his blade to Arthur’s neck. The Dornish knight guffawed and shook his head. “Seven hells, Barristan! You’re supposed to lose a step with age.”

Tyrion clapped loudly and called out to Arthur. “Like a fine Dornish wine, perhaps he only gets better. Though it seems Ser Barristan has yet aged.”

_ Always with a wine reference. Typical.  _

As Ser Barristan approached for his crown, he smiled widely at Brienne and bowed, but his eyes darted quickly to Genna. She stood clapping excitedly for her  _ friend _ , while at the same time hurling playful japes at Lyanna.

* * *

The next day, Tyrion and Brienne broke their fast together. Ser Barristan was on guard duty that day and leaned against the Keep wall looking incredibly tired. Biting her lip, Brienne tried not to consider what that meant, but she supposed it had something to do with Genna.

When they finished eating, Brienne and Tyrion approached Genna’s room to inquire about going for a trip to the beach. When Brienne raised her hand to knock, she took pause. Loud voices from inside made her wonder if it was an inappropriate time. Glancing at Tyrion, Brienne noted the concern on his features. 

Genna’s voice screamed from the other side of the door. “I said  _ no _ ! You can’t make me!”

Before Brienne could process it all, Barristan stepped forward and grabbed the door handle. The door swung open to reveal Genna and Tywin standing toe to toe with Pycelle at the older lord’s back. The maester held something in hand, but he cowered at the sight of Barristan.

With worried eyes, Brienne watched as Ser Barristan moved into the room and spoke commandingly. “Get away from her!”

Barristan stepped between Genna and Tywin. They were standing near a table, and Brienne’s eyes went wide when she saw the crown of flowers from yesterday’s competition. 

_ Oh no. I hope Lord Tywin doesn’t know what that is from. _

Stepping into the room, Brienne reached for the hilt of the sword at her hip. Her eyes were trained on Lord Tywin as he snarled at Barristan.

“You’ve no authority to burst into this room. I am having a conversation with my sister.”

Barristan didn’t back down as he stepped toe to toe with Tywin. “I do have the authority to burst into this room when you are causing the queen distress.”

“The  _ queen  _ is my  _ sister _ . A member of  _ my _ House. Go stand guard outside while I finish the conversation with her Grace.” Tywin stood with his hands clasped behind his back, but Brienne noted how his knuckles were white as they squeezed together tightly. 

“Leave.” Barristan’s tone was firm and he refused to move from between Tywin and Genna.

Tywin’s expression was filled with contempt as he spoke. “Do not overstep your bounds. You will leave this room or…”

“Or what?” Barristan’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. “Your Grace, do you wish for your brother to leave?”

“Yes.” Genna did not hesitate in replying as she grasped at Barristan’s arm. The touch did not go unnoticed by Tywin. He narrowed his eyes and for a moment, a heavy silence fell over the room.

Brienne watched as Tywin reached back towards Grand Maester Pycelle. “Genna, you will drink this now, and then I will leave.”

The Grand Maester handed Tywin a vial containing a solution unknown to Brienne. Whatever it was unnerved Genna. She took a step backwards and titled up her chin in refusal. “No.”

Without taking his eyes off Barristan, Tywin replied firmly to Genna. “Drink this now, or I will ensure this reaches your cup another way.”

Barristan’s fist connected with Tywin’s face and sent the lord to his backside. The solution spilled from the vial and pooled on the floor beside Tywin. Unsheathing his sword, Barristan held it to Tywin’s neck. “That is treason. You threaten to tamper with the queen’s drink. I could take your head here and now.”

Pycelle’s eyes went wide and he stammered in reply. “Lord Commander! You can’t do this!”

“I am charged with guarding the king and his family. A threat against the queen is a threat against the crown.” Barristan kept his eyes fixed on Tywin who glared at him from the floor. 

Tywin stood slowly and sneered at Barristan. Blood dripped from his nose, but the head of House Lannister made no effort to wipe it away. “You’ll earn the wrath of the West for this insolence.”

“I saw it! I’ll tell my father what you meant to do to my goodmother!” Brienne straightened to full height and clutched harder at the hilt of her sword, just as Ser Barristan had done and taught her. She was not afraid of Tywin Lannister. She was not afraid of anything.

Tywin’s head snapped to her, and then his eyes dragged slowly back to Barristan, Tywin stepped forward and spoke in hushed tones. Whatever he said made Barristan’s eyes widen and his skin pale. 

_ What just happened? _


	26. Barristan IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A baby arrives and it changes everything.

“Your Grace. The queen has been taken to the birthing bed. It’s her time.” 

At Grand Maester Koval’s words, Barristan felt his heart race. He glanced at the king and held his breath. With a small nod, Selwyn cleared his throat and acknowledged Koval’s update. “Very well. I’ll wait outside the delivery room.”

After the altercation with Tywin and Pycelle, Selwyn wrote to the Citadel to request Pycelle be replaced for attempting to force the termination of her Grace’s pregnancy at an unsafe stage. The Citadel responded swiftly and recalled Pycelle; in the process sending Koval.

Grand Maester Koval was a kind man in his fifties. He had served prominent Houses in years past, but of late, he had been leading research projects at the Citadel. While it was easy enough to remove Pycelle, Tywin proved an altogether different matter. For moons following the altercation, Tywin’s words still haunted Barristan.

_‘The last time a House disrespected me, I extinguished them. All of them. Pray that babe looks more Lannister than Selmy.’ _

It wasn’t the first time that Tywin had threatened Genna’s loved ones. Laughably, the only comfort Genna took from the ordeal was confirmation that it wasn’t Tywin who encouraged the maid’s tampering with the moon tea. 

Barristan wanted to place Tywin in the cells, but Genna worried that in doing so, her brother would give voice to the babe's lineage before they identified the true threat. Further, she feared that the West's most loyal vassals would prove problematic with such drastic action.

_‘He’ll not harm this babe, Barristan. My brother is a monster, but he’s not a fool. To the best of his knowledge, this babe will be claimed as a Tarth.’_

Before his hasty departure, Tywin had spoken with Genna. _‘I’ll not have you make a mockery of this House. If you refuse to end this pregnancy, that babe will be a Tarth regardless of the rumors I’ve heard over its lineage. If it’s a boy, I expect to see him coronated when the time comes. Should Cersei provide Jon a girl, a match will be made.'_

Now as they walked through the Keep, Barristan fidgeted nervously. He knew that Selwyn had no desire to stand outside a door for hours on end and listen to Genna cursing the gods. It was for Barristan’s sake that Selwyn would wait for another man’s wife to deliver a babe. 

As the men moved through the Keep, Selwyn grabbed Barristan’s arm and leaned close to whisper. “Do you need to get anything from the White Sword Tower?”

Barristan knew that he wouldn’t be afforded true claim to the babe, but he hoped that Genna might accept one thing for the babe. In his trunk in the White Sword Tower, Barristan had a toy from his own childhood. He had little reason to have brought the toy when he joined the Kingsguard, but it was the only thing that reminded him of home; of his mother.

Barristan’s mother had made him a small stuffed knight when he was a boy. She had sewn their family sigil onto its cape, and Barristan had slept with it in youth. The knight had been in his hands on _that_ night. While Barristan soaked in his mother’s blood, he held up the doll to prevent the ruining of it. 

Barristan shook his head in refute. Perhaps he might give the doll when he was allowed to claim the child openly; if the day ever came. The realization struck Barristan that he might never hold the child as a father should. Over the last moons, Barristan tried to prepare himself for this moment, but it never truly sank in until Koval’s words just moments earlier.

When they arrived outside the birthing room, Barristan had to resist an overwhelming urge to move inside and wrap his arms around Genna. The worry for her safety was as strong as the desire to hold his babe. He prayed to the gods to keep them both safe.

Hours passed and soon Genna’s pained cries drifted under the door. Panic began to set in. Barristan was uncertain what to expect. He had never been within earshot of a birthing before; not even Rhaella’s labors. Despite that, Barristan understood it was far from trivial.

Barristan felt himself pale as he stared at the door. To his left stood a man who lost his own wife to the birthing bed six years prior. To his right stood Lyn whose own mother died on the birthing bed. Barristan thought of Joanna Lannister and Rhaella Targaryen. So many women lost while bringing new life into the world. 

As he tipped back his head and tried to ignore the screams coming from the room, Selwyn spoke commandingly to Lyn. 

“Ser Lyn, could you please find Brienne for me? I’d like her close when the babe arrives. If you can escort the princess to her chambers, I’ll send for you when the time comes.”

Lyn’s brows furrowed at the words. “Ser Arthur is guarding her, your Grace. You would have us both guard her?”

“Yes. She could use a good distraction.” 

At Selwyn’s words, Barristan glanced at the king in confusion. It was hardly necessary to have two guards with Brienne, but Lyn did as instructed. When Lyn left, Selwyn leaned against the wall next to Barristan. Then it dawned on Barristan why Lyn had been sent away.

A warm hand came to the back of Barristan’s neck just above the armor. “You need to breathe. It will do no good if you pass out and I have to guard you. I’m not terribly good at all that.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all that Barristan could think to say. He felt like a failure at his inability to keep it together. This wasn’t supposed to be _his_ child's birth. He was compromising their secret by struggling to act indifferent. 

Selwyn sighed at Barristan’s side and squeezed lightly at the nape of his neck. “Don’t be. I was in the same state as you on three occasions.”

_Three. His wife died with the third. This is Genna’a third. Grand Maester Koval said the more births, the more risk._

As if sensing Barristan’s panic, Selwyn straightened and leaned close. “She’s going to be fine. Do you think Genna would let the Stranger take her now? She’ll kill death itself before letting go.”

Nodding in reply, Barristan took a deep breath and glanced back towards the door. The next hour seemed to stretch on for eternity. Then the loud wail of a babe poured out through cracks in the doorframe. The world seemed to still and Barristan heard a flurry of movement inside. 

When the door opened and the maester stepped outside, he looked at Selwyn and smiled. “Your Grace. You can come inside now.”

Barristan looked to the floor and resisted the urge to ask questions. _This is not my babe to ask after. This is not my babe to claim._

Selwyn pushed off the wall with a sigh and stepped into the room. Closing his eyes, Barristan tried to calm himself. The door shut once more and he was alone. It felt fitting in a way. Genna, Selwyn, and the babe were inside the room, while he was alone outside. 

Soon the door opened again and the maester stepped into the hallway with a bundle of soiled linens. The man offered a cordial smile and nod at Barristan before turning down the hallway. Leaning against the wall, Barristan fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. He tried to run through drills in his mind to serve as distraction. Then the door opened again, and Selwyn peered down the hallway before nodding at Barristan. 

“Come on.”

Barristan’s eyes went wide. He shouldn’t be allowed into the room. It was a break from protocol and a privilege that he felt wasn’t owed to him. Opening his mouth to protest, Selwyn rolled his eyes and stepped into the hallway. His hand gripped the top of Barristan’s breastplate and tugged him forward. 

Barristan stepped into the room and sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Genna on the bed holding a well-wrapped babe in her arms. The door shut at his back, and Selwyn guided Barristan forward. “Come meet your son.”

_Son. A boy._

Tears pooled in Barristan’s eyes, but he blinked them back quickly. Genna smiled and reached up with a hand. “Come here. Sit with us.”

“I shouldn’t…” Barristan was afraid of developing attachment to a babe that he was not allowed to dote on publicly. He didn’t trust himself to refrain from doing something that may cause others to realize the truth of the boy’s lineage. 

Genna tugged him down and huffed. “This is your son, Barristan. We’re behind closed doors. You’re allowed to be with us.”

Barristan sat on the edge of the bed facing Genna and the babe. His left leg draped across as Barristan leaned forward and kissed Genna’s lips. “I was so worried.”

Genna’s fingers brushed through Barristan’s hair as he stared at the sleeping babe in her arms. He was in awe of her and their son. “He’s perfect.”

Barristan’s fingers twitched with a desire to touch the babe, but he held back. Despite Genna’s words, the babe didn’t feel his. “Here. Hold him.” Genna’s arms lifted forward, but Barristan froze. 

“I’ve never held a babe. I’ll do it wrong.”

“Well you’ll hold your son, Barristan. Put out your arms.” Genna rolled her eyes when Barristan did literally that. “I’m not bestowing a gods damned sword upon you. Bend your elbows. And by the Seven, must you always be in the armor.”

“I am on duty! Stop yelling at me!” At Barristan’s back, Selwyn snickered. The babe stirred at the noise and Barristan retracted his arms quickly. “He doesn’t like me. I pissed him off.”

“You’re pissing me off. Now move closer and give me your arms.” Genna rolled her eyes. When she glanced at him, her features softened. Once more, Barristan held his arms out. Genna placed the babe into his arms and tilted his elbow up that cradled the boy’s head.

With a smile, Genna stroked the babe’s cheek. Holding the babe as close as the armor would allow, Barristan stared at him in wonder. It was an experience he never thought to have, whether holding his babe or someone else’s. Suddenly he despised the armor. He wanted to hold his son against his chest, particularly given it might be his last chance. The thought made Barristan want to cry. His face fell as he stared down at the small babe.

“Barristan.” Genna’s hands cupped his cheeks. He glanced up through his lashes and saw the worry in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t hold him like this.” He had expressed his fears to Genna during their stolen moments together. The words were whispered against her skin in darkened rooms or muffled by silks pulled over their heads.

Genna closed the distance between them and kissed his lips. “He’s _yours_ , Barristan. A Selmy. He’ll always be a Selmy. You might not be able to hold him in court, but you can love him every moment of the day. He’ll feel that.”

From behind Barristan, Selwyn moved closer and peered down at the babe. “I’ll go get Jaime to meet his cousin. Then if you don’t mind, I’ll come back with Brienne. She’s quite excited. Take your time. I’ll walk slowly.”

Genna smiled at the king and nodded. “Thank you.”

Once the door shut and they were alone, Barristan spoke questioningly. “What are you going to name him?” 

Genna sighed heavily; her shoulders rising in uncertainty. “I don’t want a Lannister name. So many bloody Tys. Tywin, Tytos, Tyrion, Tybolt, Tywald. Just ridiculous, and I’m still properly pissed at my brother. I imagine you don’t wish to honor your father by using his name?”

Barristan snorted and shook his head. Lyonel. It was a common name in the Stormlands. Perhaps if his father hadn’t been such a drunk, violent man, it would have worked out perfectly since Selwyn was of the Stormlands and no one would bat an eye. “No. Not Lyonel.”

“How about a great knight in honor of this little one’s father?” Genna stroked Barristan’s cheek as they stared at their son’s face. A small smile tugged at his lips. 

“Well that rules out Jonothor.” Barristan’s tone was teasing as he spoke; the words producing a guffaw from Genna.

“You and Arthur need to leave poor Jon be. He tries very hard.” Genna hummed in consideration. “I may not be a great knight like you, but I know of the greats. Sadly we can’t make it so obvious to call him Barristan. Second bests? Arthur, Daemon, Aemon, Duncan…”

“Jaime.” Barristan interrupted Genna’s rattling off the great knights of the realm's history. “He’s the greatest knight in our history.”

When Genna didn’t reply, Barristan glanced at her and was surprised to find her crying. “What’s wrong? Genna…”

“You mean that?” Genna wiped at her eyes. A teary smiley spread across her face. “You think that about my Jaime?”

Barristan chuckled. _Her Jaime._ “Of course. He did what grown men couldn’t and saved half a million people in the process. If he keeps training as he is, he might even beat Arthur someday. Not me, of course.”

Genna snorted and swatted Barristan’s arm. His lips curled at the corners in reply. “Don’t hit me. I’ve got a young knight in my arms.”

Pressing her face against Barristan’s, Genna mumbled against his skin. “I love you.”

The phrase had quickly become Barristan’s favorite. He would never tire of hearing it from Genna’s lips. Leaning forward, Barristan kissed her softly. “I love you both.”

They sat together for a while longer until a quiet knock came at the door. Handing the babe back to Genna, Barristan stood and approached the door. When he opened it, Jaime stood on the other side. He raised an amused brow and whispered. “Uncle. Hello.”

Stepping into the room, Jaime moved quickly towards Genna. “You look well. What do you have there? A mini you or a young knight?”

Genna huffed in offense. “You say that as though a babe couldn’t be both. Princess Brienne is going to shove that remark down your throat one day, and I’ll be laughing from the rock wall.” 

Barristan chuckled as he closed the door and approached. Putting up defensive hands, Jaime shook his head. “I’m entirely confident that with this babe being half Barristan, that’s more than enough to correct for your lack of skill with a sword.” 

Genna shook her head. “Gods, Jaime. You’re very annoying sometimes. Here. You can hold him.”

“Him? Seven hells. You both have properly fucked up now. Now our king will need to change the laws of inheritance.” At Jaime’s words, Barristan’s eyes went wide. He had been so overwhelmed, that he hardly considered the repercussions of having a son. The babe being a boy would call succession into question. 

“So what are we to call him?” Jaime glanced at Genna and she smiled widely; her eyes shifting to Barristan with a slight twinkle.

“I suggested naming him after a great knight in hopes he might be like his father. You would have been impressed at how many I recalled from those awful stories you made me read you as a boy.” 

Jaime chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you named him Aemon. I’ve had enough of Targaryens for a lifetime.”

“Jaime.” Genna smiled as she stared at her nephew holding the small babe.

“What?” Jaime looked up at his aunt in question and it took everything in Barristan not to laugh at his lack of understanding. 

“ _Jaime_. I suggested a great knight, and Barristan picked the one he deems the greatest.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. “Don’t tell me you picked yourself, Barristan. That’s a bit awkward, don’t you think?”

Barristan raised a brow. “Is that your way of sharing the opinion that I’m the greatest knight? Will you tell Arthur that?”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “I’ll deny this entire conversation.” 

With a huff, Genna shook her head. “ _His_ name is Jaime. Jaime Selmy. I couldn’t agree with your uncle more on his opinion of the greatest knight.”

At the words, Jaime glanced back at Barristan in shock. “What? Are you both japing? You named him after me?”

Barristan rolled his eyes. “I’ll not say it again.”

“No! I want to hear it again.” Jaime smiled widely and looked down at the babe in his arms. “Do you hear that little Jaime? I’ll make him say it every night when he tucks me in.”

Before Barristan could give Jaime a hard time, the young knight pulled him into a hug with his left arm while holding the babe in his right. “Thank you.”

The tears in Jaime’s voice were surprising. When Barristan first met Jaime, he hadn’t realized how sensitive the young knight was. He liked to play at indifference, but he was very emotional and quite tender. 

Jaime spoke to the young babe as he moved back towards Genna. “You’re a _Jaime_ and a _Selmy_. It’s almost unfair how skilled you’ll be. They’ll need a new White Book for your deeds alone.”

 _If he becomes a Kingsguard, I suppose that’s one way to solve the issue of succession._

Another knock came at the door, but it burst open before Barristan could reach for the handle. Moving quickly out of the way, Barristan’s eyes went wide as Brienne came charging in like cavalry in a battle. “Where is he!?”

“I’ve got him.” Jaime smiled at the babe in his arms after glancing at Brienne.

“Well stop hogging him! I want him now.” Brienne reached for the babe, but Jaime pulled away.

“He’s mine. I had him first.” 

Brienne scoffed; her hands moving to her hips. “Well I’m the princess.”

“You’re going to pull rank on me now!?” Jaime’s brows rose in amusement, but she shrugged as though the matter was inconsequential. 

“What’s the point of having rank if I can’t use it for important things such as this?” Again, Brienne reached up expectantly. 

With an exaggerated eye roll, Jaime handed over the young babe. “Do you even know how to hold him?”

“I know better than you. I helped Lady Catelyn with Sansa and in the past moon turn, little Arya.” Just a moon earlier, Catelyn had birthed Arya. House Stark was rapidly filling the Keep with three young children now occupying the Tower of the Hand.

Barristan smiled as Brienne held his son with the utmost confidence. Her smile stretched wide as she held him close. Jaime hummed in self-satisfaction before speaking to Brienne. “You know… Ser Barristan named him after the greatest knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Brienne glanced up and smirked at Barristan. “You named him Arthur? Or after yourself?”

Jaime scoffed in offense. “I said the _greatest_. Not great. His name is Jaime.”

With a false smile at Jaime, Brienne shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste. Isn’t that right Lady Genna?”

A loud guffaw pushed past Genna’s lips at her lesson recited. “Good girl! You tell him.”

“I truly don’t care for either of you. Only Barristan and little Jaime can stay.” Jaime feigned offense, but Barristan saw the hint of a smile at his lips. Brienne walked to a chaise lounge in the corner and sat with the babe. Jaime was quick to follow as both stared at the young boy in Brienne’s arms. 

“Do you know how to change a nappy?” Brienne spoke challengingly at Jaime; her brow raised in question as she looked at him.

“What? Why would I know how to do that?”

Brienne smiled confidently at Genna. “I’ll be much more helpful to you than Ser Jaime, Lady Genna.

* * *

The sound of a babe’s cry drifted under the door as Barristan stood guard outside. It had been four moons since Genna birthed Jay. They had taken to calling little Jaime ‘Jay’ so as not to be confused with the much larger, and much more annoying, Ser Jaime. Barristan had to fight the urge to enter the room and offer aid. For moons, he had fought the urge.

Like his stolen moments with Genna, Barristan was only allowed to be a father in the shadows. During the day, he did as he was told. He kept his distance and watched from afar as visiting dignitaries offered congratulatory words to Selwyn and Genna. He watched as his son was paraded around as though a prince, when in actuality, he was the son of a Kingsguard; a child with nothing to inherit. A boy sired from a man serving, was thought to be sired by the man others served.

Jay had light blond hair and blue eyes. He had Barristan’s coloring and every other feature one could identify on a babe of four moons. At night, Genna spoke of her fears. 

_'What if he grows to look like you?’_

At first, Barristan loved studying the babe’s features when he was afforded time; albeit fleeting. Then he felt guilt at Genna’s worries and Selwyn’s despair. The king spiraled more as the kingdoms came to know of the male heir to the iron throne. 

_We were fools to think that we could pretend at this for as long as necessary. They can’t have Brienne’s claim called into question. What will they do?_

As Barristan stared at the door that he was not allowed into, he sighed and leaned against the cool stone at this back. He wondered if his son would ever come to know the truth of his lineage, or if this game would go on indefinitely. 

_What difference did the wedding make? I’m no more a father than I am a husband._

The door to Genna’s room opened and she stepped into the hallway with the Septa close at her heels. An apologetic look flashed across Genna’s features when her eyes met Barristan’s. Following Genna, Jay, and the Septa, Barristan tried to use Jaime’s tactic. He wondered if he could somehow go away inside until it was over. Whatever _over_ meant. 

It was late morning, and Genna was to join Selwyn in court for a meeting with dignitaries from the Riverlands. Lord Hoster had sent envoys to discuss matters pertaining to their kingdom, and in particular, growing tensions with the Iron Islands. 

As they entered the receiving room, Genna moved quickly to Selwyn’s side as he made idle conversation with the various lords and ladies. The women began to fawn over Jay immediately. During Jay’s initial introductions at court, Barristan’s chest would swell with pride when he noted how everyone fussed over Jay. Then he realized that it mattered little how he felt. To the world, Barristan was just a Kingsguard; not Jay’s father. He chastised himself for responding so absurdly. 

Another part of Barristan, a much more bitter part, hated that Jay might grow up only knowing Selwyn as a father. Selwyn was a good man and had done much for Genna, but as a father, Barristan found him lacking. Despite a desire to be a good father to Brienne, Selwyn came up short in Barristan’s mind. He relied on the drink to get him through the nights, and Barristan couldn’t stand his son growing up to know that kind of behavior. Barristan had to endure enough of it in his youth. 

Like the stench of burning flesh, Barristan could vividly recall the smell of ale on his father’s breath when he screamed in Barristan’s face. At night when Barristan lay awake in his room thinking about Jay and Genna in another part of the Keep, he had to remind himself that Selwyn Tarth was not Lyonel Selmy.

There would be no tankards of ale thrown at his head or rough hands to his body. There would be no punishments for perceived failings or verbal lashings for emotional weakness. With Selwyn, there was only distance. Somehow, Barristan hated it just as much. For Brienne. For Jay. 

Selwyn had made much more of an effort with Brienne over the years; that much Barristan could not discount. Still, the inability to discuss details of their lost family wounded Brienne, and the princess noticed how her father relied on the drink when things became stressful.

As Selwyn’s guests settled around the table, Brienne entered the room. Sewlyn smiled brightly and waved her over. “What is it, sweetling? I am about to meet with these visiting nobles.”

“Ser Arthur said he’d take me to the beach if it’s alright with you.”

Selwyn sucked in a sharp breath, and Barristan knew the king was recalling Galladon’s drowning. He prayed the king would not reach for a drink at the request. With a forced smile, Selwyn nodded. “Please, just… don’t go in far.”

Brienne beamed in reply and attempted a curtsey on the way out. The poor child could never master that one movement, and Barritan despised the response she always received at court when she failed at it. Questioning eyes followed Brienne’s retreat from the room, but no one said a word.

At Barristan’s side, Jon shuffled on his feet and sighed. Barristan was about to tease Jon’s restless legs, but then he heard one of the visiting nobles chuckle and speak to Selwyn and Genna. “You both must be very relieved that this one was a boy.”

Barristan’s eyes narrowed at the man, and he committed the sigil to memory. House Mallister. 

“Relieved?” Selwyn’s tone betrayed his confusion, but Genna’s face was the picture of rage. Like Barristan, Genna recognized the slight against Brienne immediately. On instinct, Barristan’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. 

“We are not _relieved_ . We are _disappointed_ . Disappointed at any statement that would suggest King Selwyn’s family was not complete _before_ me and Prince Jaime.”

The room went silent at the words, and understanding washed over Selwyn’s face. “I do suppose this little one here may expedite my consideration in changing laws of inheritance.”

Silverware clattered at the words. Barristan sucked in a sharp breath and he closed his eyes. Part of the reason they opted to have Genna and Selwyn annul the marriage was to avoid upsetting ruling lords by touching the laws of inheritance. Jay would have no claim, and no wars would be started over decisions that could rattle the kingdoms. Barristan had seen what happened once before when a sovereign tried to forgo tradition and societal expectations to accommodate his eldest child’s every whim. 

Of course, Brienne was not Rhaegar, and Selwyn was not Aerys. Barristan only worried that the kingdoms might not see it that way. He worried at word getting back to Tywin of what he would perceive a slight to House Lannister on two fronts. Jay would lose the crown to Brienne. Jaime would lose the West to Cersei. 

One of the vassals spoke cautiously from his seat. “Laws of inheritance, your Grace?”

“Yes. Princess Brienne is my heir. Do any of you object to that?” Selwyn’s fist tightened around his fork as he appraised those assembled around the table. 

No one spoke, and Barristan felt his stomach tighten in knots. His eyes darted uneasily to Genna, and she appeared equally unnerved by the exchange. Soon the envoys began discussing matters that their lord sent them for. 

For some time they spoke of what to do about the Iron Islands. House Greyjoy was sending out ships to pillage fishing villages along the western coast. The Riverlands and the North were hit hardest, but the West did not go untouched either. As the group spoke, Barristan had a sinking suspicion that this would come to war. 

One year later and just past midway through 290ac, it came to just that.


	27. Jaime VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Islands rebel and the crown moves to protect the western coast. Set in mid 290ac-mid 291ac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely pulling in a lot of canon events and details with some subtle changes.

The ship rocked on the seas as they drifted through the morning fog. In the distance, Jaime could make out the outline of Pyke. Rows of ironborn came into view and awaited the incoming threat. The war had been waged mostly on sea to that point, with few alterations on land. The crown’s forces easily outnumbered the raiding ironborn, but on sea, they lost much of that advantage. 

The entire Kingsgurad except for Arys and Lyn had joined their king as as he went to war on behalf of the kingdoms. Like Barristan, Lyn was not a swimmer. Selwyn had preferred leaving Barristan and Lyn behind, but the Lord Commander refused to sit idle in King’s Landing. After nearly drowning in rough seas during the first battle, Jaime wondered if Barristan felt otherwise. 

Before the crown’s fleet joined the war, the allied fleets along the western coast of the kingdoms were losing small battles. Even the Lannister fleet had fallen to Euron Greyjoy’s unexpected attack at Lannisport.

When the crown’s fleet entered the fray, the ironborn were humbled by Lord Paxter’s navy. The Master of Ships had improved the crown’s fleet substantially over the years. House Redwyne had already been regarded as the strongest naval threat on the sea, but now they appeared indomitable. 

In their first major battle of the war, the crown’s forces rolled over the Iron Fleet. Lord Paxter commanded their ships in the destruction of Victarion's Iron Fleet within the Straits of Fair Isle. In that battle, Rodrik Greyjoy, Balon’s eldest son and heir, was killed. Nominal damage was taken during that first battle, but it was a less than ideal way to test Barristan’s skill as a swimmer. 

The seas had tossed the ships around the straits that day, and near the end of battle, the ship containing King Selwyn, Ser Barristan, and Lord Paxter took on too much water after having it’s portside rammed into by Rodrik’s ship. While King Selwyn managed to kill Rodrik before the two ships sank, he also found himself saving his Lord Commander.

Arthur had not let Barristan hear the end of it after their Lord Commander was yanked from the sea by a panicked Selwyn. The king screamed at Barristan for not getting in the rowboat sooner with the rest of the crew, but Barristan had refused to leave his king’s side during the final stages of battle.

Barristan had saved Selwyn’s life when the king was distracted by Rodrik. An ironborn had taken aim at Selwyn’s head as the king lunged at Balon’s eldest son. It was a fleeting relief until both men were pulled into the sea by rough waves.

After Selwyn dragged a waterlogged Barristan to the rowboat, and ultimately aboard Arthur’s ship, the Sword of the Morning guffawed as Barristan spluttered water onto the deck. _“We should have brought Princess Brienne to hold you afloat as she does in King’s Landing.”_

For the next two battles, their fleet split into three groups. Barristan led one contingent, Jaime another, and Lord Paxter a third. It was a gamble to allow Jaime command of a fleet given his limited experience in war, but Selwyn had confidence in the young knight, and Jaime had what the rest of his sworn brother’s lacked; an education on the seas.

Growing up at Casterly Rock, Jaime was expected to learn how to wage war by land and sea. Sailing was as important as learning siege formation and horseback riding. Jaime learned his way around a ship well-enough to layout naval plans and command a fleet. He led the crown’s forces to an overwhelming victory at Seagard. 

While Jaime led a portion of the crown’s fleet at Seagard, Barristan and Lord Paxter commanded their contingents at Great Wyke and Old Wyke. Both won decisive victories as Jaime had, and now, the fleets stood poised to amass a final attack on Pyke.

Jaime’s group contained Byrnden and Arthur; both of whom stood at the bow of the ship with Jaime. Arthur leaned over and spoke quietly into Jaime’s ear. “Come on then. What’s the wager, little brother?”

Jaime smirked; his eyes narrowing as he spoke confidently to Arthur. “A dragon per man?”

Arthur’s arm draped over Jaime and he chuckled as though it was the greatest jape he ever heard. “Thank the gods your House is rich. You’re going to owe me quite a lot.”

“When I win, I’ll accept _Dawn_ as payment if your House can’t cover my numbers.” 

They had made a wager for who could take down the most ironborn in war. It was a crass wager, but in truth, Jaime wanted something to think about other than the battle to come. He wasn’t afraid of war or dying, but Jaime feared failing. It was his only fear going into battle. 

The thought of letting down his king, sworn brothers, and kin weighed heavy on Jaime. He had never been in battles before the current war. By comparison, Jaime’s sworn brothers had substantial experience. Jaime considered that between Barristan and Brynden, they likely had accumulated more years on the battlefield than Jaime had years of life.

With an approving hum, Arthur raised a brow at Jaime. “If you lead as well as you did in the last battle, I may well consider letting you at least train with Dawn.” 

Jaime’s eyes sparkled at the thought. It had been exhilarating to lead a group containing the Blackfish and the Sword of the Morning. Even more exciting was the earned respect from both men at how well he led the fleet in battle. 

To Jaime’s right, Brynden unsheathed his blade as the ships closed in on the enemy. “On your command little lion.”

* * *

It was almost midway through 291ac. War had raged for nearly a year, but now a victory feast was held in King’s Landing following the defeat of the Iron Islands. After a successful at Pyke, the ironborn’s self-proclaimed king, Balon Greyjoy, bent to Selwyn. His second son had died in the siege, leaving nine-year-old Theon as heir. As punishment, Theon was sent to Winterfell as a ward under Lord Benjen. 

Further, Selwyn placed the Iron Islands under jurisdiction of the Riverlands. As they had once been united under House Hoare long ago, the Riverlands and Iron Islands were one, but with the Iron Islands now as vassal under House Tully.

Varys and Ned were uneasy about the decision. They both felt it might cause future tensions and another rebellion, but Selwyn cared little. When he visited some of the villages raided by the ironborn, the king had raged. He saw children without parents, parents without children, and livelihoods destroyed. As a man of Tarth, he despised pirates, and that is all the Iron Islands were to him. 

_“Tarth served House Baratheon in the Stormlands, and the bloody ironborn can serve House Tully in the Riverlands. If they conduct themselves in such a deplorable way, they’ll see their station reduced until they’re naught by fishermen.”_

Now as Jaime sat at the long table in the great hall, he felt a presence fall into the seat beside him. Turning to his right and away from Arthur who he had been speaking with, Jaime noted the eager face of Brienne. 

“Ser Jaime! Ser Brynden said that you commanded one of the battles! Can you tell me about it.”

Brynden laughed loudly and clapped from across the table. “My how the tables have turned. Suppertime stories indeed, little lion.”

With a knowing smirk at Brynden, Jaime turned his attention back to Brienne and smiled widely. “Unlike the Blackfish, I won’t make you beg for the tales.” 

Jaime had been of age to Brienne when he begged Brynden for tales from war while staying at Riverrun. The knight had supplied a few, but it was like pulling teeth. Of course, Jaime was meant to be spending time with Lysa then, but she was painfully dull.

Recounting the battle, Jaime watched as Brienne’s eyes widened in wonder at the information. She interjected several times with questions; most of which were surprisingly astute. Jaime assumed that being from an island afforded her an added layer of understanding for naval matters, just as she insisted on knowing _everything_ about archery. 

Before Jaime could finish telling the entirety of the battle at Seagard, Selwyn called the hall to order. He sat at the head of the table with Genna to his left and Ned to his right. The Kingsguard sat on each side of the table nearing the royal family and the Hand’s family. On her lap, Genna held little Jay who was now almost two years of age. 

It was uncanny how much the boy resembled Barristan. As reward for his overwhelming influence on the boy’s appearance, Barristan was gifted the seat the furthest from Genna. Jaime glanced at his Lord Commander and felt a pang of sympathy for the man. 

When they returned to the Keep that morning, the royal family, Ned’s family, and Lyanna greeted them in the courtyard. Brienne had run towards Selwyn to embrace him, and little Jay followed, giggling and smiling straight into Selwyn’s arms. The only kin who Barristan had to welcome him home couldn’t acknowledge him in such a way, nor did Jay know the truth of who Barristan was. 

Barristan had slipped away from the welcoming party and returned straight to the White Sword Tower. When he walked into the great hall for the feast, it was the first time Jaime had seen him all day, though sadly, it wasn’t due to time reconnecting with Genna and Jay in private. Genna had spent the day playing host to the wives of the visiting lords and knights while Jaime stood guard.

Selwyn stood tall and surprisingly sober. Since the war, Selwyn had not touched an ounce of brandy, and while Jaime lacked understanding for what drove the change, he did not question it. 

“Tonight we celebrate a great victory for our kingdoms. Everyone here did their part to defeat the rebelling Iron Islands, and we have now brought their region under the Riverlands. House Tully and I will work together to ensure the peace is kept, and our villages along the western coast are restored. A toast to all those who fought or helped prepare for war, but in particular, I wish to acknowledge the incredible leadership of our Master of Ships, Lord Paxter Redwyne.”

The crowd cheered loudly for the lord who proved yet against why House Redwyne is second to none on the sea. When the crowd quieted, Selwyn smiled at Paxter before speaking again. “We also had quite the commander emerge in Ser Jaime who led the battle at Segard and ensured our final siege at Pyke was uncontested.” 

Once more the crowd cheered, and Jaime couldn’t help the wide smile stretching across his face as Arthur clapped Jaime’s shoulders and cheered loudest of all. The rest of Jaime’s sworn brother clapped loudly and nodded in acknowledgement; particularly Ser Brynden who had spent much of the day bragging about Jaime’s efforts. 

As the cheers slowly died down once more, Selwyn also announced those knighted in battle for their bravery and skill. There had been quite a few knightings at Pyke, but none of the men were as well-known to Jaime as Lord Jorah Mormont. 

When the feast was back underway, Jaime and his sworn brothers drank and talked loudly. Only Jon and Barristan abstained from a cup of wine or tankard of ale; the former for reasons well-known amongst the brothers. To Jaime’s right, Brienne leaned onto the table and listened eagerly at the brothers’ stories from the war and inside japes. From time to time, Selwyn would interject and correct one of Arthur’s dramatized telling of events. 

Arthur loudly boasted his victory of the wager with Jaime during the siege. “My little brother might as well bequeath me the Rock for how much coin he owes!”

With an exaggerated groan, Jaime leaned back and glanced to the rafters. “You beat me by two kills! I should get something for one of my kills which prevented a sword through your side.”

Arthur’s arm draped over Jaime’s shoulder once more; his head shaking in refusal. “That was a test, and I wanted you to feel important, so I allowed my guard down for a moment. Job well done.”

Turning his attention to Barristan, Arthur chucked a piece of bread at his head. “Ser Sunshine! Speaking of saving lives…” Mischief danced in Arthur’s eyes as he leaned forward and looked at Brienne. “Princess, we needed you there to keep the Lord Commander afloat. He had the audacity to nearly drown _after_ the battle was won.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide and her head snapped to Barristan. “What!? But we worked on your treading water. What happened?”

Jaime snorted at the words, but Arthur kept needling Barristan. “Can you imagine it? What an anticlimactic end that would have been for Barristan the Bold. Knighted by King Aegon V. Killed the Last Blackfyre. Ended the Defiance of Duskendale. Defeated the leader of the Kingswood Brotherhood. Drifted off to sea _after_ battle.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Just a bit of water.” Barristan huffed and pushed around the soup in his bowl. 

Brynden scoffed at the words. “A bit of water? You were spitting up seawater for nearly a day afterwards.”

“What!?” Genna’s voice brought the teasing to a halt. Glancing at his aunt, Jaime noted the mix of horror and fury in her eyes. She, like Selwyn, thought it best that Barristan remain behind with Lyn. Battles at sea were best-served for strong swimmers, and that did not include Barristan. Despite their protest, Barristan went. The sworn brothers japed that if he drowned in battle, the king and queen might find a red priestess to raise Barristan simply so that they could kill him themselves.

Light laughter filled the air as the sworn brothers glanced at Barristan. Jon elbowed the Lord Commander and snickered. “Uh oh. Your head is about to get torn off by the queen. Shall we cover your retreat?”

Barristan only shrugged with indifference. “Well that death sounds far more exciting and worthy, doesn’t it? Having my head torn off by a lioness?” 

Arthur guffawed and nodded emphatically. “She’s vicious. That might be your bravest moment yet.”

“It’s not funny!” Genna growled from down the table. At her tone, little Jay startled and reached for Brienne. 

The pair had formed a close bond and Brienne practically mothered the young boy. True to her word, she loved helping with his care. For as much as Jaime enjoyed giving Brienne a hard time, Jay did prefer her. Still, Jay was Jaime’s favorite cousin which said a lot considering the young boy wore nappies and was unable to hold a conversation. 

Genna leaned over and whispered to Selwyn. The scowl on her face meant trouble, and Jaime was certain that Barristan was bound to get an earful. With a nod, Selwyn cleared his throat and spoke to Barristan. “Her Grace wishes to retire. Ser Barristan, could you…”

“No. My nephew will escort me.” Genna stood from her seat and reached for Jay, but the young boy clung to Brienne. 

Jaime sulked at the request. _What? No. Leave me out of it._ He wanted to stay and celebrate with his sworn brothers; not have listen to one of Genna’s monologues about how vexed she was. At his side, Brienne glanced up at Genna.

“I can put him to bed, Lady Genna. He’s quite… attached.” Brienne’s voice was slightly strangled as Jay pressed tight to her chest. The boy was tired and clearly in need of rest. 

Genna leaned down and kissed the top of Brienne’s head. “Thank you, Brienne. Do you mind giving him a new…”

“Nappy and shirt. Yes, of course. I’ll give him a story too.” Brienne smiled warmly and Genna patted her head once more before moving away from the table. She raised an expectant brow at Jaime; her hands firm at her hips. 

Risking a glance at Barristan, Jaime realized it was less in punishment to him and more a slight to Barristan. He sighed and offered his arm to Genna. The moment they stepped into the hallway, Genna spoke in hushed tones. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll not ruin your evening. You can just drop me off and return to the hall. I don’t need a guard.” Genna’s eyes remained fixed straight ahead as they walked. There was something in her tone that struck Jaime as off, but he couldn’t place it.

“You know that I can’t leave your door unguarded.” While technically Genna was not the queen, she had to maintain appearance. Of course, it was highly unlikely that anyone would bother Genna that night. She could simply bar her door and rest. If anyone entered the royal apartments unannounced, the person was likely looking for the king. 

Genna raised a brow. Her tone implied what Jaime’s own mind knew to be true. “You can leave my door unguarded. Truly, Jaime. I’ll just be taking rest.”

“And Jay? You’ll just have him sent to bed without _anything_ ?” _Without so much as acknowledging Barristan._

“Don’t start that. You know it has to be that way.” The dismissive words bothered Jaime. They had been away at war for nearly a year, and Jaime was quite certain that no one even welcomed Barristan home.

Jaime understood why appearance must be maintained, but the behavior was unlike his aunt. Glancing around the hallway, Jaime bit his tongue on the matter until they arrived at Genna’s bedchambers. 

“I’m very proud of you, Jaime. Sel tells me how incredible you were out there. I worried sick over you, but I am so impressed at what you accomplished.” Genna patted Jaime’s arm with her free hand and smiled up at him. 

Jaime hummed and offered a forced smile, but he was still too fixated on Genna’s strange behavior. They soon arrived at Genna’s room and she bid him goodnight, but Jaime stepped inside without invitation.

“Why are you being cruel to Barristan?” The words tumbled out with little consideration. Jaime searched Genna’s eyes for some sign of guilt, but he saw none.

“I am returning his behavior in kind.” Genna shrugged and walked to the corner tablet to pour herself some water. Following closely, Jaime’s face scrunched in confusion.

“What? You’ve not even welcomed him home yet. He just fought in a war, and the first time you speak to him all day is to yell at him.”

At Jaime’s words, Genna rounded on him. “I hardly see how this is your concern. You know that I _can't_ welcome him home with open arms. _He_ knows that. The situation is shit, but it is what it is.”

Jaime tilted his head in consideration. “How can you say that? You mean to tell me that all day, you couldn’t have come up with some contrived reason to visit the White Sword Tower with Jay? I was on guard duty. You had sufficient opportunity to duck away before or after hosting tea with those annoying women.”

“It’s too great of a risk. I’ll not compromise Jay’s safety to welcome home someone who shouldn't have left! I begged him not to leave. Selwyn asked him not to leave. Not only could he have stayed, but we could have actually enjoyed time together with no one suspecting a thing.” Genna’s lips turned down and her tone held a pained edge to it.

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. He brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration. “He’s a Kingsguard, and not just any Kingsguard. He’s the Lord Commander. It’s his job to protect the king.”

Genna's face was red with rage and her eyes narrowed in challenge. “A Kingsguard who can barely swim, and who almost drowned _after_ battle. He had no place getting on a bloody ship just as Lyn didn’t. The difference is that Lyn respects his own life. Apparently, Barristan would so willingly abandon me and Jay for some ridiculous reason.” 

Jaime would not concede the point. “It was a war, Genna! You just lauded me for behaving bravely, but so did your husband. For a man who can’t swim, he did quite well commanding one-third of the fleet and laying siege at Old Wyke.”

“And I lost my sons in war! I lost them for some madman’s cruel decrees. Do you know what Barristan told me once when I accused him of almost dying in that same war? He said it would have been an ‘honorable death’. That’s all he thinks about! Some grand sendoff for the bloody White Book! What about me? What about Jay? What is so wrong with wanting to die old and at my side in a painfully dull manner?” Genna’s chin quivered at the last sentence and her eyes watered.

Jaime huffed in frustration. He hated seeing Genna upset. It was a rare thing that she cried, and his words had provoked such a response. Pulling her into an embrace. Jaime sighed heavily. “That isn’t what he wants. You misunderstand him. How would you have felt if Selwyn died in the war?”

At the question, Genna huffed. “Don’t ask ridiculous questions, Jaime. I would have been devastated. He’s an incredible friend.”

Jaime smiled and broke the embrace. “Yes, well the reason Barristan almost drowned is because he refused to leave Selywn’s side when the ships started sinking. The king insisted on ensuring Rodrik Greyjoy did not escape, but in the process, he nearly got himself killed. Barristan saved his life. He only means to protect the people he cares about just as you do.”

Genna grimaced at the words and sat on the edge of the bed in a huff. “Don’t ruin my stubborn resolve in this. I’m angry at him.”

“Don’t withhold yourself and Jay from him. It’s cruel and unlike you.”

At Jaime’s words, Genna’s eyes went wide. “I do not!”

“You are right now. You wouldn’t even allow him to walk you here. I can’t imagine loving people as much as he loves you and Jay, and then being treated like a stranger upon returning from war. He watched his son run to another man in greeting, and the only interaction with his wife was a reprimand from down the table.

“Alright enough! You don’t need to make me feel worse.” Genna yelled at Jaime, but he finally saw the guilt in her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and strained. “You have no idea how difficult this is on all of us. Me, Jay, and Barristan. I hate having to pretend Jay isn’t his. It broke my heart when Jay ran to Selwyn earlier today. Everytime I see Jay smile, all I see is Barristan. Every milestone the boy hits, I want to run to Barristan and show him, but I can’t.”

Jaime sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “How long do you have to keep this up? Obviously it wasn't my father. He had a proper fit when he found out you were with child, and then there was that Pycelle incident. Selwyn just saved the entire western coast by interceding and getting the Iron Islands under control. It’s the second rebellion he has subdued. The people love him and would back him in war should it come to that. Who is left to care?”

Genna sighed. “I sometimes wonder if it’s Dorne. Selwyn prevented their quest for revenge against the West. What if it’s them? Perhaps they would seek to put Rhaenys on the throne. Lady Olenna has wanted Garlan to match with Brienne, but supposedly he met with Rhaenys too. Rhaenys and Daenerys are set to visit in a week at Oberyn’s behest, and Olenna already called Garlen to the city. Surely they all know how Tywin would rage if Selwyn denied Jay publicly. We just don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, and it worries me. I don’t want to start a war and risk the lives of others because of a decision that Selwyn, Barristan, and I made.”

Jaime sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Everything is already at risk. Do as you must, but at least consider the need for continued secrecy in how you punish Barristan. You shouldn’t withhold Jay or yourself.”

Putting his arm around Genna’s shoulder, Jaime kissed her on the head. She sagged into him and nodded. “I know. You’ve the right of it. Go on back to the feast. You’re wasting too much time and you should be celebrating.”

Jaime stood and walked towards the door, but Genna called out. “Can you find some excuse to send that dolt down here?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific. There are many dolts sitting at that table.” 

Genna huffed and waved Jaime off. “The tall, nearly white-haired, annoying Lord Commander-uncle of yours.”

“Ah, yes. _That_ dolt.” Jaime smirked and left the room. The closer he came to the Great Hall, the louder the noise became. 

Jaime stepped into the hall and saw Brienne in his seat with Jay on her lap. He chuckled as Brienne peppered Arthur with questions about the siege of Pyke. The rest of the sworn brothers were laughing and carrying on at the table, but only Barristan sat quietly offering polite smiles from time to time.

Taking Brienne’s seat, Jaime tried to sound nonchalant. “Ser Barristan, apparently I’m even more annoying than you are. She now prefers his Grace’s original guard assignment. You’re stuck with her.”

The sworn brothers laughed loudly and hit the table in reply. Jon threw back his head and guffawed. “You were so close to a moment’s reprieve. Good luck, Barristan. Be bold.” 

Barristan stood in confusion; his eyes darting briefly to Jaime in question. Unable to offer reassurance, Jaime smiled hoping to convey that it was safe to go. The storm had passed, and Genna was now in a more agreeable mood. 

Jaime enjoyed the next hour celebrating with his sworn brothers. It was a lively atmosphere with everyone in great spirits. Then Brienne stood to bring Jay to bed and Jaime followed. Her eyes narrowed in question as she glanced back to assess the footsteps that followed. 

“I can put him to bed, Ser Jaime.”

“Well I’m his cousin and he prefers me.” In truth, Jaime was quite tired and had enough of the feast. Lyn would stand guard that night since he was well-rested from having remained behind during the war, but Jaime wanted to see his cousin before retiring. It had been almost a year, and Jaime had missed little Jay.

As they walked through the Keep, Brienne spoke to Jay as he yawned in her arms. She cared for the young boy like a woman twice her age might. When they arrived at the nursery, Brienne changed Jay’s nappy and put him in a clean sleeping gown. She took Jay on her lap and reached for a book, but Jaime grabbed it and raised a challenging brow. 

“Don’t you recall? You need a male for the character’s voice in this one. Honestly, princess… you’re forgetful of your own rules.” Jaime spoke in feigned disappointment, but he couldn’t suppress the smirk when Brienne chucked a decorative pillow at him. 

“That book has a maiden in it. Do you mean to take on that role too?”

Speaking in a high-pitched voice, Jaime read the book title. Brienne cringed at Jaime’s effort and covered Jay’s ears. “That’s awful. I’ll need to do that part.”

Brienne set Jay down in the crib and took the book from Jaime. “It starts with my part. Then goes into yours.”

They acted out the parts and did the proper voices as Jay stared at them in confusion while sucking his thumb and gripping his blanket tightly. He giggled each time Jaime swung his sword around dramatically, or Brienne pretended to be frightened by the deadly giant threatening to scoop her up. When it came to the part of the gallant knight spearing the giant with his lance while on horseback, Brienne had to play the role of knight so that Jaime could be a proper horse. 

“No! Wait. We need to make the giant.” Jaime stood quickly before Brienne could get on his back. They stacked chairs on top of one another and covered it with a blanket and decorative pillow to represent the head. Jaime gave Brienne his sheathed sword to use as a lance for her daring rescue of Maiden Jay. 

When they lined up opposite the makeshift giant and barreled into it with the fake lance, Jay giggled loudly as the furniture crashed to the floor. It wasn’t long before a frantic Genna ran into the room in naught by her housecoat. 

_Oh disgusting. Truly?_

“By the gods! What are you doing!? I thought something happened!” Genna reached into the crib and grabbed Jay. She turned to Jaime and Brienne with reprimanding eyes. “Why is he still awake?”

Jaime huffed as though the answer was obvious. “We were giving him a bedtime story. No need to be so ungrateful about it. Jay loved it. Gods, did you have to run in here like that.”

“Be grateful it was me running in here. You were about to get a sword through the head.” Genna left the room with Jay and walked two doors down to her own.

“His crib is in here! What are you doing?” Jaime called out after Genna, but found himself biting back a smile. She would bring Jay to Barristan, and they could enjoy at least an hour together as a family before Selwyn likely retired for the night and Lyn arrived to stand guard. 

_Perhaps I should take guard duty from Lyn so that Barristan can stay for the night. Seven hells. I’m so tired though._

Brienne began cleaning up the mess they had made and Jaime helped to right the chairs. “Are you tired? Do you need a bedtime story too? Mine are very calming.”

With a loud snort, Brienne shook her head in refute. “I’m not tired, nor do I think your stories are very calming, though they are entertaining.”

“Well good. You’re far too old to be given a bedtime story.”

Halting her effort to clean, Brienne raised a challenging brow at Jaime. “You gave me one bedtime story over the years that I’ve been here, and it wasn’t terribly good.”

“What!? We fought a dragon together! And we saw a shadowcat! Don’t you recall that awful Septa in her dress?”

A wide smile spread across Brienne’s face in reply. “It was particularly awful, I’ll give you that.”

Jaime hummed and continued to defend himself. “Besides, I was only a babe myself when you arrived… according to your father at least. My job was to stare blankly at the wall with my wooden sword while you did gods only know what inside.” 

“Well I wasn’t hosting a tea party. I was receiving lessons or sleeping.”

Jaime shrugged and continued cleaning the nursery. “Still, it was more entertaining than staring at a wall.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips. “I can assure you that nothing about Septa Roelle’s lessons was particularly entertaining, though Septa Mally has been far more reasonable.”

As Brienne stepped into the hallway, she called back to Jaime. “You never finished the tale of the battle at Seagard by the way. My father’s lengthy speech interrupted it.”

The words made Jaime chuckle as they walked into the hallway. “I loved the speech.”

“Why? Because it was about you?” At one-and-ten, Brienne was already the height of Genna and other noblewomen of court. At the rate she was growing, Jaime considered that she might be of height with him someday. It was easy to forget how young she was given her skill with a sword, height, and serious nature. 

“Well it certainly helped that it was about me. To be honest, I think he downplayed the entire thing. I basically ended the war.” Jaime spoke in mock sincerity, though Brienne saw through it. She rolled her eyes and glanced at the ceiling. It would seem that in the last year, she improved at distinguishing jest from sincerity. 

“Goodnight, Ser Jaime. Enjoy staring at a wall or whatever it is you do with your free time.”

Moving towards Genna’s door, Jaime knocked lightly and glanced around. When the door opened a crack and a pair of questioning green eyes greeted him, Jaime spoke in a whisper. “Is he still in there?”

“Yes. Why? Are they coming back already?” Genna’s voice betrayed her dismay. From behind her back, Jaime could hear Jay babbling on the bed, and Barristan whispering to him in reply. 

“No. I’ll guard tonight for Lyn. He can stay in there until morning. Just… keep the activities down a bit. I can only endure so much trauma in one lifetime.”

“Jay is in here!” Genna scolded, but when her annoyance faded, she smiled warmly at Jaime. “Thank you. You were always my favorite Lannister.”

“I’m telling Tyrion that.” Jaime snickered and walked to stand against the wall.

“Don’t you dare! I’ll deny it.” Genna hissed, but Jaime only waved her off and spoke teasingly. “And by the gods, don’t forget the moon tea. Jay doesn't need a sibling.”


End file.
